


One Night Stand

by RealityOfTheMatter



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Love Island: The Game Season 2, Post-Villa (Love Island: The Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealityOfTheMatter/pseuds/RealityOfTheMatter
Summary: Bobby McKenzie arrived in New York City looking for a break from the fame. Spreading his bakery to the States sounded like a perfect excuse to leave his home in Glasgow for a while. He can spend time with his sister exploring the city, visit friends, and do the whole tourist thing.But once he arrives in the city that never sleeps, there’s something else keeping him up at night.Samantha Robins is a top-tier marketing consultant based at a firm in New York City. She’s spent her life climbing her way to the top, being the best at everything thrown her way. Being successful and professional is just about all she knows.Until she wakes up next to a stranger in her bed and realizes maybe she’s had it all wrong this whole time. Hazel eyes and a Scottish accent seem to invade her life on daily basis and now she’s caught up between work and her new booty call.
Relationships: Bobby/Main Character (Love Island)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 80





	1. Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Occasional swearing and cussing, smut, and sexual references.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a beautiful Friday morning in New York City. Who's ready for the weekend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been updated from the original version released back in March of 2020.

I yawn and stretch my arms over my head, smiling sleepily to myself. I felt good this morning, more relaxed and content than I’ve felt in a long time. 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been a little stressed lately. I recently found out just how abstract life really is. You know, when I was about 5 years younger, I had this equation to follow, right? 

An Ivy league education plus an impressive master’s degree, sprinkle in some community involvement and leadership experience and you’ll get the dream job. The best part? You’ll never have to look back at that part of town you grew up in. No one will ever know exactly how poor you used to be.

But no one ever tells you what to do after you make the big bucks and get the dream job. Because then you start questioning if the job is actually a dream and wondering why you feel empty when you walk back into your apartment at the end of the day. 

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I no longer know what the hell I’m doing with my life. I don’t know what my dreams are. I just did what I was supposed to do back when my head was constantly stuck in a Marketing 101 textbook and now I’m lost. 

But why worry about that shit on a morning like this?

I realize I actually have bigger problems as I roll over, the warm body next to mine is a stark contrast from the cool feel of my lavender sheets and I’m reminded of why I feel so good this morning. 

The memory of strong hands gripping my hips while fireworks burst behind my eyelids flashes through my mind. The soreness between my thighs that he left behind is suddenly obvious and apparent. 

I got laid last night. 

By a beautiful stranger who had a thing for pretty pink painted toes. 

I still immediately as warning bells ring out in my head, afraid to wake him up. 

What the hell was I thinking last night? 

I glance over at him as he snores quietly. He stretches a bit and snuggles closer to me. His dreads tickled my cheek and I scoot further away, hoping that he doesn’t reach out for me. 

Luckily, it seems like he’s out like a light. 

I reach for my phone and check the time, careful not to disturb the sleeping beauty beside me. My alarm is two minutes away from going off and I immediately cut it off. 

I glance over at him again before rolling onto my side to face away from him. I check my messages, making sure I let Melissa know I made it home and vice versa. Out of habit, I check my email and calendar. 

_Shit_. I have a meeting to get to this morning. An important meeting. 

I bite my lip and slowly creep out of the bed before tiptoeing to the bathroom. I shut the door quietly behind me. I’m still naked so I grab my robe from the back of the door and wrap myself in the royal blue silk before sneaking a glance at the woman looking back at me from the mirror. 

Her hair is wild, blonde and brown curls sticking up from her curly nest of hair in odd directions. I watch as her fingertips brush against her swollen lips. Her golden skin has a natural glow, her cheeks remain pink and flustered from the remnants of what she did last night. Her brown eyes wide and shocked as if she’s a deer in highlights. 

This young woman is radiant and reckless, brought to life by a stranger. 

I didn’t recognize her.

I swallow and turn away from the woman staring back at me. 

Suddenly, my stomach turns to knots, my mind grappling with concern and raw panic. 

Did we use a condom last night? 

I immediately check the trash can and breathe a sigh of relief. There’s one in there. He must have come in here after I fell asleep and took care of it last night. 

I pause, taking another moment to breath before peeking out from behind the door. 

Sleeping beauty was still there, looking happy and content as he lay under my sheets. I didn’t like how much I liked him being there. It was a strange feeling. 

His eyes are still closed and I stare as he slowly breathes in and out, the slow and steady breaths of a good night’s sleep. Watching him slows the rate of my own heart and I chuckle to myself.

His rest is well deserved after a good night’s work I suppose. 

Despite my attempt for a light hearted mood, I’m honestly terrified to wake him up… But I’m also not about to let some random man sleep in my bed while I’m gone to work all day.

I glance at the floor where our clothes lay discarded. I need to get myself together. I did what I did last night and now it’s time to put on my big girl panties… Or rather pick them up off the floor and get this man out of my apartment. 

So I find the courage to leave the bathroom and pick up his clothes, sitting them on the bed. I sit his shoes on the floor at the end of the bed so he can find them easily. I make sure he can see that his wallet, phone, and keys are still in place so he knows that I’m not a thief. 

Despite my sudden bravo, I have to admit I’m still not quite ready to face the awkwardness that comes with the light of day. So instead of waking him right away, I go about my morning routine, pretending that he isn’t there. 

But much too soon, I’m fresh and ready to hit the door with only the dilemma snoring quietly in my bed left. 

I guess I could be nice and fix the guy a cup of coffee. In a to-go cup. 

I walk quietly back into my kitchen. I keep a supply of coffee cups so that I can always be prepared to go on the run or offer my friends a cup if we walk to work together. It’s cheaper than stopping at one of the coffee shops or by Starbucks, plus it tends to save time. 

The delicious scent of a fresh brew fills my kitchen as I pour into the cup. I breathe it in deeply. I already had my cup for the morning, but I always love the scent of earthy spice and chocolate liquor heavy in the air. My own personal coffee shop. 

As I sit the french press down, I wonder if he likes his coffee black or with sugar. Would he like my chosen flavor of cream? 

I stand there trying to decide what I should do. In reality, I’ve already made up my mind to leave his coffee black. It’s the safe option. 

Deep down, I’m just trying to hold off the inevitable.

I didn’t do this type of thing. I didn’t hook up with guys and plan never to see them again. Honestly, I’ve never done this before. This wasn’t my style. My moves are usually too calculated to let the reckless that came over me last night take control of my actions. 

I pray no one finds out about this. I have a reputation to maintain. I’m the one who’s always put together and in control. I’m the ‘mom’ friend, the voice of reason. I’m the example, the picture perfect role model of a good girl from the 404 who made it big in the big apple. 

But dammit! It’s not even the weekend and I hooked up with a stranger! 

How did this happen? I have no clue, probably my overzealous confidence. Or maybe I can blame Melissa’s encouragement or the fact that it’s been too damn long since I’ve been with someone. Or maybe I can just blame the man in my bed for being absolutely gorgeous. 

Last night, he had an aura about him that made me feel like I could trust him. There was something about him that I couldn’t resist. Was it the eyes? Deep and sweet like honey. Or maybe the way he made me laugh and so I let him pull me closer. All I could think about last night was _boy, when can I make you mine_? 

But I meant it in, like, a short-term… kinda… way. I don’t have time for relationships. I can’t believe I whispered ‘let’s go’ in his ear and brought him back home. Was I drunk? Tipsy off the champagne and rose? 

Regardless of what got me in this situation, I’m left to deal with the consequences now. 

So I take a deep breath, pop a lid on the coffee cup and reluctantly head back to my bedroom. 

I walk over to the side of the bed that he’s sleeping on. He looks so peaceful. I almost regret having to wake him up, pausing for a moment to look over his soft features. 

Unfairly long lashes rest against his cheek, plump lips part slightly as he slumbers. His brown skin smooth, freckles scattered across his skin as if God took his paintbrush and flicked his wrist to create an abstract work of art. 

The contours and angles of his face are framed perfectly by the sunlight coming from my window. A few of the short dreads on top of his head brush against his brow. He has a boyish charm about him that I find adorable. 

I immediately want to capture this moment in time. He’s beautiful but I wouldn’t dare, I respect his privacy. I’d feel weird taking his picture without his consent. It’d be like I was keeping a trophy or a souvenir and that felt wrong. 

I shake myself out of this trace, pushing away the desire to frame him into a piece of art. I need to go ahead and get this over with. 

But I have to admit to myself, for my first one night stand… I didn’t do so bad. I almost reconsidered not getting his number.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Time to get the show on the road. 

I clear my throat, preparing my best TV personality impression as I push against his shoulder, “Gooooood morning, sleeping beauty!”

I make sure my voice is loud enough to wake him on the first try. His face immediately scrunches up in annoyance before he yawns loudly, stretching his arms out wide. He opens his hazel eyes and looks right at me with a small smile. I swear I feel my heart leave my chest and somehow he has a hold of it. And now I’m aggravated at the way he makes me feel. 

To top it off, this man then has the audacity to roll over and sink further into my bed, the muscles of his back exposed as he snuggles into the sheets and hugs the pillow to his chest.

“Mornin’...” he mumbles, my velvety comforter tangled around his legs. 

Baby boy is way too comfortable. 

“Umm… It’s time to get up,” I say awkwardly, “Like for you to get up… And go... I need you to get up and go. I have somewhere to be.”

He glances at me over his shoulder, “You have somewhere to be? On a Saturday morning?”

I laugh, “Saturday?! First of all, it’s not Saturday. It’s Friday. Second of all, whether or not I have somewhere to go, I’m asking you to leave _my_ room.” 

He immediately bolts up. His eyes going wide as he looks at me, “Wait. It’s Friday?”

I roll my eyes and nod, “Yes, it’s Friday.”

“Crap,” he mumbles, throwing the comforter from over his body as he moves to sit on the side of the bed. My breath hitches and I try really hard not to stare. 

Like really really hard, but this man is gorgeous head to toe. He’s lean and muscular, arms strong. His freckles scatter across the upper part of his chest, spreading up and across his shoulders… I want to run my hands across his body, move a bit slower than we did last night. Use my fingertips to trace his freckles and connect them. 

Or maybe I’d use my tongue instead… 

“Where are my clothes?”

I blink, running my tongue over my lip as I tear my eyes from his body to meet his eyes, “Huh?”

For a moment, a twinkle of amusement shows in his eyes before being quickly replaced by panic, “Where are my clothes at?”

“Oh, right there,” I point to the end of the bed, “Your shoes are too. Phone, keys, and wallet. All there. I made you a cup of coffee too,” I glance down at the cup in my hand before flickering my eyes back up at him, “I figured that was the least I could do.” 

He pauses as he reaches for his clothes. He looks at me with an arched brow, “You put everything together and fixed me coffee? That was sweet. I wouldn’t have taken you for the type.”

I scoff, “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grins, standing to dress himself. I try once again to look anywhere but directly at him. I’m a mixture of messy emotions. Shocked that he’s so comfortable standing naked in front of me, I mean I get it. Why would he hide it when I’ve already seen it? Felt it…

And now I’m trying to ignore the heat between my legs as he stands there, but from the corner of my eyes, I can see the way his lean body moves as he pulls his pants up and buttons them.

“I mean the first thing you told me when I woke up was that I had to get up and go,” he looks up at me with a chuckle as he grabs his shirt, “That wasn’t very polite.”

“Um,” I press my lips together into a fine line, “Actually, the first thing I told you was ‘Good morning, sleeping beauty.’ You’re just focusing on the negative.” 

He chuckles, popping his head through the top of his shirt. Maybe I stole a glance at his abs before he popped his head through. Wouldn’t you?

Actually, scratch that. I meant to say (think?) thank God that he’s finally dressed. He barely had a six pack… 

He ruffs his dreads as he looks at me, “Fair. You think I’m beautiful? Although breakfast would have been nice… Or maybe a good morning kiss?” 

He winks at me as he packs his wallet back into his pocket and grabs his phone. 

“Ha,” I roll my eyes, “You’re pressing your luck, sweet cheeks.”

“What’s wrong with that? We’ve already kissed,” he tilts his head to the side and gives me a cheeky grin.

I blush, much to my dismay. We did a lot more than kiss. 

“What happened to you suddenly being in a rush? You know what time it is?” I reply, eyeing my clock, “It’s 7:30 AM. If you have to be at work at 8 or something, I suggest you get a move on it.” 

I push the coffee into his hand and nod towards the door. I cannot fall under his spell again.

“Do you have to be at work at 8? Is that why you’re trying to push me out the door?” He asks, standing firmly in place.

“Actually, I do,” I narrow my eyes at him, “I have a meeting this morning and I’m not going to let you let me miss it,” I do my best to appear serious, but he only smiles.

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave right now if you give me your number?” He asks, batting his eyelashes at me.

“No,” I shake my head, “Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening”

“Okay. Let me rephrase that, I have somewhere to be too,” he follows my eyes over to the clock on my nightstand before looking back to me, “But I’d really like to see you again. I’d leave you mine but I have a feeling you wouldn’t call. So I’m going to beg.” 

And then this man seriously gets down on his knees in front of me, sitting his coffee on the floor before clasping his hands together. He looks up at me, pouting his lower lip out. 

The most irresistible puppy dog eyes look up at me, “Please, please, please, give me your number? I beg of you, your royal highness.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. He can _not_ be serious right now. 

“Do you not understand ‘not happening’?” I cross my arms over my chest, looking down at him. I try to fight off a smile, “I don’t… I don’t date guys that do this type of thing.”

He looks at me questioningly, “What type of thing? Begging?” he sighs, “I thought for sure you’d be into that.”

“No,” I bite my lip again, my laughter threatening to bubble over, “I meant hooking up. I don’t do the whole hooking up thing. This was fun and all,” I cross my arms over my chest, “But I’m not about to be your new booty call.” 

“That… Seems a bit hypocritical,” he arches a brow at me, “We literally hooked up… Last night.”

“The first and last time for me,” I tell him. It was now 7:35 AM. I need him to leave. 

“I was the first time you hooked up with someone?” He looks surprised, finally standing to his feet, “I have to admit I’m honored. I don’t usually do this type of thing either.”

I look him up and down, this man really has some nerve lying to me like every girl in the bar didn’t want to take a bite out of him and his friends last night. 

I arch my brow, allowing every ounce of doubt to show on my face, “I highly doubt that.”

The corners of his lips twitch in amusement, “Well, I don’t. It’s the truth. That’s why I’d like to take you out… Maybe the arcade? Movie? What are you into?” he asks with a smile, “If it was Saturday, I’d suggest we go get breakfast together.” 

I shake my head, “Really, love. It’s not necessary.” 

He takes a step towards me with a frown, “You’re right, it’s not… But I’d really like to get to know you better.” 

“That was your first mistake,” I tell him. I glance back at the clock. 

7:40 AM. As much as I hate to, I’m going to have to get mean. 

I turn to face him, making sure my voice is firm and determined, “If I wanted to get to know you better, this is not how I would have done it. As handsome as you are, it’s not happening, baby boy. End of the discussion. You have to go, I’ll follow you out the door.” 

To show how serious I am, I walk past him, grabbing my work bag in the process. I go through the bedroom door and stalk straight to the front door of my apartment.

I turn to face him, my hand on the handle as I make sure he follows me out of my bedroom. 

Which was my first mistake. 

Yes, he followed me. 

But the confident demeanor from moments ago is long gone. He looks so hurt. He’s standing there with his shoulders dropped. Coffee in one hand, the other hand in his pocket. He looks up at me through those long eyelashes, the disappointment in his hazel eyes attempting to shred every resolution I built up. I managed to resist the puppy dog eyes, but his obvious disappointment cut me deep. 

Then I make my second mistake, I hesitate. 

Surely, this beautiful man in front of me isn’t actually interested in me. I’m positive he has women more beautiful than me throwing themselves at him on a regular basis. He looks like an Instagram model and was the life of the party last night. I look like a thicker Mariah Carey version of Basic Betty… Without the boobs. Not to mention, I usually spend my nights in the corner booth.

And let’s not forget that all he had to do was make me laugh and then boom. He charmed me out of my pants and made his way into my bed. 

Or maybe I was just easy like that? Who knows. Honestly, who cares? I’m a grown ass woman. 

Regardless… I know I can’t leave him like this. He looks way too sad and he’s way too adorable to let my mean ass hurt his feelings. 

So I just sigh, “Okay, okay. You win,” I hold out my hand, “Give me your phone.”

He instantly perks up, a small smile gracing his lips, “You mean it?” 

“Hurry up before I change my mind,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. Knowing good and damn well that I was probably always going to give him my number. 

Curse my lack of resistance. But _dammit_ , he’s fine as hell and I already have a taste of what he could do. 

He grins and quickly hands me his phone from his pocket. 

I snigger to myself as I put ‘New Booty Call’ in as my contact name. I still hadn’t told him my real name yet. I’d leave an air of mystery about myself. It’s the only thing I have left now that he knows where I lived. 

“There,” I hand him the phone back.

He chuckles when he sees my contact name. 

“Changed your mind then?” He looks up at me with a smile before pressing the call button. 

My phone instantly starts ringing in my bag.

“Wow, you thought I’d give you a fake number?” I ask, eyebrows raised. 

He shrugs and smiles, “I have to admit, I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“Fair, it’s not like I haven’t done that before,” I grin at him.

He looks at me with a frown, “I thought I was your first time?” 

I roll my eyes, “That’s not what I meant. I meant I’ve given guys a fake number… That doesn’t mean I hooked up with them. Very few people have been graced to enter this room.” 

“Oh, look at you with all that attitude. I can’t believe I’m one of the lucky few,” he gives me a crooked smile that reveals the deep dimple on his left cheek, “Not sure I can believe it though.”

“Umm… Believe whatever helps you sleep at night,” I tell him, turning to open the door. He’s so damn cute. 

“Hmm… Maybe you’re my future girl?” He asks, walking past me. He turns to walk out backwards in order to grin at me.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, following him out the door, “I hate to burst that bubble, but I highly doubt that.” 

“You never know,” he wiggles his eyebrows at me and I laugh. 

“You really think I’m girlfriend material? Even after how mean I’ve been this morning,” I asks him as we descend the staircase. This isn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be.

He glances at me and considers for a moment. 

“You weren’t _that_ mean,” he finally answers, “I think you can be sweet when you want to be considering the coffee in my hand. And you definitely satisfied any sweet tooth I had last night.” 

I laugh again, trying to ignore the blush in my cheeks, “Ahh, you’re giving me too much credit. I guess I was trying to cover up my guilt.”

“Your guilt?” he asks, suddenly confused, “What’s to be guilty about? We’re both adults.”

I bite my lip and ignore his question. Honestly, I’m not sure why I feel guilty. And I didn’t really care to explore why but I can feel his eyes on me as they search my expression. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks with a frown.

“What?” I look at him baffled, “No. I do not have a boyfriend. I would never do something like this if I was in a relationship.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, “Oh, good…”

He glances at me and I know I currently wear a sour expression by the way he bites his lip, “I’m sorry if I offended you.” 

“No… It’s a fair question,” I sigh, “You don’t know me. Do _you_ have a girlfriend?” 

He smiles, but it seems a little sad, “Nah… Here feel my shirt.” 

I side-eye him as we get to the end of the staircase, “What?”

“Feel my shirt,” he grins at me. 

“Umm… Okay,” I take the hem of his shirt and rub the fabric between my fingertips. It is a rather soft shirt.

“Feel that? That’s _not_ boyfriend material,” he chuckles. 

“Oh my god,” I laugh and roll my eyes. The cheeseball, “Not boyfriend material? I think you got the line wrong, love.” 

“Nah,” he suddenly wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. I press my hands against his chest in surprise, my eyes wide as he leans towards me. Was he about to kiss me?

And was I about to _let_ him? 

“It’s hubby material,” he whispers in my ear and I visibly relax. 

“Boy, get your hands off of me,” I laugh, not resisting being this close to him despite my words, “Hubby material? Really?” 

He grins at me and squeezes my hip, reminding me of how good it felt to be in his arms last night. 

“Wait,” I pause and frown, pulling myself out of his arms, “Are you saying you have a _wife_? That’s worse!” 

_What the actual hell_? I know I did not just sleep with someone’s husband. And then I gave him my number. I realize that I didn’t even know how old this man is. Or his last name.

His eyes go wide and he laughs, “What? No, I don’t have a wife.”

He reaches for me and pulls me back to him. He cocks his head towards me and smirks, “But maybe I found one?” 

“I'm going to need for you to get off this ‘wifey’ train you’re on,” I roll my eyes, “We are not in Coming to America.” 

“What?” He looks at me confused.

“It’s a movie about a African prince coming to the U.S. to find a wife. Eddie Murphy is in it,” I answer him with a chuckle. 

He looks at me dead serious, “Well, how do you know I’m not a Prince?”

I grin and shake my head, “The Scottish accent gives it away.” 

He chuckles, “I guess so, huh? And unfortunately, I’m not a prince. Well…” he considers for a moment, “According to you, I’m a princess.” 

“That’s right,” I finally pull myself from his arms again. It’s way too easy to be comfortable with him, “And sleeping beauty needs to get a move on it.” 

I nod towards the door and reach to open it, but he beats me to it and opens the door for me.

He bows with a smile, “After you, my lady.”

I eye him suspiciously as I walk out the door and he laughs, following behind me. 

As we make our way onto the sidewalk, I turn to him after taking a deep breath of this New York City air, “This is where we part, Aurora.” 

He chuckles, looking back at me with a small smile. He takes me by surprise by planting a sweet kiss on my cheek, “Until next time, Prince Phillip.”

I laugh and blush deeply, pushing a loose curl behind my ear, “If there is a next time. Plus I like to think I’m more like Maleficent.” 

His eyes twinkle with mischief, “I think they’ll be a next time. Not so sure if you’re scary enough to be Maleficent though,” he chuckles when I pout. 

He checks his phone before giving me a wink. He turns on his heels and heads down the street in the opposite direction. 

“Catch you later, Booty Call!” He shouts at me with a cheeky grin over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. 

I grimace as a lady walking by gives me the side-eye. If she knew what I knew, she wouldn’t be so judgmental. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes -
> 
> "...a good girl from the 404..." - 404 is a reference to Atlanta, GA in the U.S. It's the area code for phone numbers of residents in that city. Often times, area codes are used kind of like slang for telling someone where you are from.


	2. Business Partner

**Samantha’s POV**

  
“That girl got that vitamin D glow!” Melissa sniggers as I slid into the conference chair beside her. 

Luckily, we were the only two in the meeting room right now. It’s 8:25 AM and I’m right on time. The meeting didn’t start until 8:30 AM. 

“Shut up!” I laugh, “We are in a professional work environment.” I grin and lean over, “But I’ll tell you about it after work.”

Her eyes go wide and she grabs my hand, “Just tell me one thing…” She peers at me over her glasses, “Was it good?”

I bite my lip in an attempt not to laugh but it comes bursting out, “Hell yes! Melissa, I have never in my _life_. Do you hear me?” 

“Oh my gosh!” She laughs along with me, “Like that?” 

“Like. That.” I grin and shake my head, “Details after work. Right now we need to be ready to meet this client.” 

“Right, right,” she chuckles, “Did you know he’s like some kind of reality TV star?”

“Oh, really?” I say, fascinated, “That’s interesting. What show?”

“He was on this game show in the UK called Love Island. Can you believe it?” She asks me with a grin, “Lucky you didn’t have to resort to that. You think they’d let me on?”

I laugh, “Have you seen yourself?” 

Melissa is a black barbie with a figure to die for. Her hair is generally slicked into a curly bun, her makeup is always on point, professional yet classy and elegant. She’s gorgeous and her self-doubt always outrages me.

“Of course, they would,” I tell her.

“Yeah, right,” She rolls her eyes, “But I bet our client is like gorgeous. You have to have really nice teeth to get on TV.”

“Teeth?” I say, “That’s the first thing you’re concerned about? His teeth?” 

“Teeth are an important feature!” she looks at me like ‘duh’.

“I wasn’t saying you’re wrong. But when I hear reality TV, I think of his body,” I chuckle.

She grins at me, “That’s just because your mind is always in the gutter.”

I grin and begin to look over our meeting notes, “Anyway. His name is Bobby McKenize. Is his real name Bobby or is that a nickname?”

Melissa shrugs, “That’s the name he gave us. Wasn’t ya mans from last night named Bobby?”

I shrug back. “Yeah, that’s an interesting coincidence. His friends called him Bob though. Anyway, so our client is a reality TV star from the UK looking to open up a couple of bakeries in the US? He already has a few operating in different locations in the UK but he wants our help to brand and market his business here. Sounds simple enough.”

“Yeah, this will be fun. I think this is the first time we’ve done a small-business like a bakery in a long time,” Melissa smiles, “This is going to be great.”

“Yeah, not really a small business though, is it? A reality TV star turned international franchise bakery owner? I cannot wait to meet him,” I say, “I’m interested to see what he’s like.”

“Hopefully, we shouldn’t have to wait long,” Melissa checks her watch, “He’s running a little late.” 

She’s right. It’s now 8:40 AM. He’s ten minutes behind. If there’s one thing to you can do to get on my bad side, it’s be late to a meeting.

“Right this way, Mr. McKenzie,” I can hear Angie, our receptionist, say. At least it sounds like he’s here now.

“That must be him,” Melissa smiles. We stand up, smoothing out our skirts as we get ready to greet him when he enters the room. 

“You can call me Bobby,” you can literally hear the smile in his voice. 

My world stops dead as I feel the color drain from my face. That voice and accent sound so familiar. 

I glance at Melissa and she’s looking at me with big brown eyes. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing. 

You didn’t hear Scottish accents around here often. What would be the chances of meeting two Scotsmen both named Bobby within two days of each other? 

But please, by some miracle, let it be a coincidence.

But as soon as he rounds the corner and steps towards the door, I see the same dreads I pulled, the same muscular frame I wrapped my legs around, the same soft lips that I met hungrily last night with my own. The same beautiful freckles I wanted to capture this morning. 

And now he’s dressed for business and looking more delectable then ever in a white dress shirt and slacks. 

The very same man that I slept with last night and then tried to kick out of my apartment this morning was my new client. 

My heart is trying to leap from my chest. I silently pray for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. 

This could _not_ be happening to me. 

“Here you are, Bobby, Martine,” Angie smiles, blissfully unaware of the storm she’s sending my way as she pushes open the door, “Two of our best are ready to help you. Melissa Bradshaw and Samantha Robins.”

“Thank you,” Bobby smiles at her and enters the room.

His eyes go wide as they land on me. My breath catches in my throat and the floor sways beneath my feet.

Time stops as the initial shock settles in and a grin slowly makes its way across his face, the mischief in his eyes apparent. He’s about to enjoy every minute of this.

“Well, fancy seeing you here, lassie.”

Melissa’s jaw drops as she looks between us, “Oh. My. Gosh.”

I finally notice the short woman standing beside him as she looks between the three of us, confused, “You’ve already met them, Bobby?”

She’s a lovely woman with the same pretty face as him, only without the freckles. A kinky puff of curls sits proudly on top of her head. Her friendly eyes are deeper than Bobby’s, a darker shade of honey with more hints of green. She has to be a relative and they’re both unfairly beautiful. 

Melissa looks like she’s at the comedy club and I’m standing here like a bump on a log, feeling completely betrayed by the universe. It has to be obvious the three of us recognize each other. 

“Oh,” Bobby’s grin grows wider, “We know each other _very_ well.” 

He winks at me with a chuckle and I just don’t understand how I haven’t already died from embarrassment. 

There’s a pause as they look at me for a reaction, but I can only stand with my mouth agape. 

Melissa finally bursts out laughing, turning back to face him, “Mr. McKenize! Welcome, great to see you again.”

He laughs, stepping up to embrace her as if they had been friends for years rather than accept her handshake, “You too. My friends call me Bobby. Consider yourself a friend.”

He smiles at her as they part, “It’s nice to know you made it home safely last night, Pamela. I mean, _Melissa_.” 

Melissa offers him a bashful smirk and side-eyes me. Now we were caught red-handed using our fake names. 

He smirks at her before turning his attention to me. 

“Umm.. uh… Hi again,” I stutter and my cheeks are currently on fire. This was so embarrassing. 

“Hi Samantha,” he tilts his head to the side, looking at me with amusement, the same dimpled smile on his face, “There’s no escaping each other now.” 

I take a deep breath and run my hands down the front of my skirt, unsure of what to do, “I guess so.” 

He laughs and suddenly I’m wrapped in his arms. The smell of his cologne is warm and inviting mixed with the faint scent of freshly baked bread. I automatically hug him back despite how hard my heart is hammering in my chest. It’s probably a good thing he holds some of my weight, I wasn’t sure I’d stay standing for long. 

Bobby keeps his arm wrapped around my shoulders as he turns back to face the woman he brought with him, “Martine! This is _Gina_ , apparently better known as Samantha. Samantha, this is my sister, Martine.” 

Martine’s eyes flash with realization and she bursts out laughing, “Oh… Wow.”

He must have told her about his whereabouts last night. My blush deepens. Could this get any worse? Everyone in this room knows where we were last night. 

She grins and shakes my hand before glancing at her brother, “This is only something that would happen to you, Bobby.”

He chuckles and finally takes his arm from around my shoulders, “You think so? I feel like I’m still on camera for something like this to happen.” 

He looks at Melissa and I with a grin, “I do have to say Melissa and Samantha are more fitting. Why Pamela and Gina? Where did you come up with those names?” 

“You’ve never seen Martin?” Melissa asks with a laugh, gesturing to the table, “Please go ahead and take a seat.” 

“Martin?” Martine asks, taking a seat, “Is that one of those American sitcoms?”

“Something like that,” I say, taking the seat furthest away from Bobby. I need the space to breathe without smelling his cologne or feeling his presence close to me. The room is already too hot and I’m sweating bullets that only fuel my shame. 

“Oh, yeah,” Melissa chuckles, “I forgot you were from the UK for a moment there.” 

“Is that the one with Martin Payne?” Bobby asks curiously. “I had a roommate from the US for a while, he used to watch it sometimes.”

I nod, “Yeah, that’s one.”

He smiles at me, making my heart skip a beat. And for some reason, I literally want to cry.

Long gone is the confident and overzealous woman from last night and this morning. In her place, is a shy woman forced to partner up with her secret crush for a group project. 

Except, she’s already given it up to him. And unbeknown to her, her crush also happens to be a reality TV star.

This _had_ to be some type of joke. Unfortunately, the fact that he and his sister are still sitting across from me told me that it isn’t. That doesn’t stop me from blinking a few times, hoping this was a dream and they’d be gone by the time I open my eyes.

I need to get a grip. This is still a business meeting. My job now is to help him get his business spread to the US and that’s what I’m going to focus on. I can handle the details of our relationship later.

I tear my eyes away from him and focus on the information and notepad in front of me, “So let’s talk business… Bobby.” 

“Oh, yes,” He sits up straighter and looks at me, mocking a serious expression, “Business.” 

Martine nudges him with her elbow. “Don’t start,” she says with a grin. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he glances at her before offering me another dimpled smile, “No jokes…”

His eyes flash with amusement as his smile turns into a smirk, “Or pleasures. All business.” 

I grimace. Melissa tries to hide her laughter, turning to look away from me. I was so going to murder her later.

Bobby chuckles and zips his lips, “I’m serious now. Not another word about last night.”

I really hoped not.

  
  



	3. Time and Place

**_Bobby's POV_ **

“So how’s the bakery coming along? You had a meeting today right?” Lottie asks. She’s currently sitting across from me, sipping a hot cup of tea. 

It’s about lunch time and we’re sitting together in a bustling cafe recommended to her by the hotel’s concierge in Manhattan. Martine had her own friends to visit so I called Lottie two weeks ago to let her know that I would be in the U.S. 

She took the time off immediately and flew all the way out from L.A. to spend the weekend with me. 

“Yeah,” I chuckle, feeling a blush crept into my cheeks despite myself.

“It was interesting to say the least,” I lean back with a grin, resting the back of my head against my hands. If we weren’t in a public cafe, I’d kick my feet up.

She arches a brow at me, “Interesting, huh?”

I simply smile.

Lottie smirks, “So she’s hot then?”

“Who?” I lean forward, tapping my chin as if I didn’t already know who she was talking about, “I’ve met a lot of people who could be referred to as ‘she’.” 

“Your new _business_ consultant,” She rolls her eyes at me.

“Ooooh, you mean Gina,” I shake my head and chuckle, “I mean Samantha Robins.” 

Lottie wears a confused expression as her real name rolls off my tongue. 

I like her name. _Samantha_. You can’t call her Sam. Or Sammie. Only Samantha truly fits her style and energy. 

“Wait. Is it Gina or Samantha?” Lottie crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me suspiciously.

“It’s Samantha,” I chuckle and clasps my hands together on the table, biting my lip. 

The truth is I’m in a pickle and I shouldn’t be this excited to talk about her, but I can hardly wait to share it with Lottie. Martine already told me I needed to get my head screwed on straight and put up boundaries with Samantha, but yet...

“So why did you call her Gina?” Lottie interrupts my thoughts. 

I awkwardly twiddle my thumbs together, avoiding Lottie’s eyes, “Well… I kind of… like…” I finally meet Lottie’s eyes with an unapologetic smile, “I kinda… like, hooked up with her last night.”

Lottie chokes on her tea and looks at me with wide eyes, “You what!?!”

“Yeah, so I hooked up with my new business partner last night,” I say the word confidently this time, leaning forward and resting my elbows on the table, “Lottie, she is hot and sassy and smart,” I sigh dramatically, “I spent the night at her place and let’s just say, it was amazing.”

I rub the back of my neck as Lottie looks on in disbelief, “You know that, like, I… haven’t really dated or anything since… Well, you know, but when I saw her and she was so confident… It was like I was back in the game again, ready to mingle, ready to see what could happen.” 

Lottie stares at me dumbfounded, “She’s your _business_ partner!” 

I wince and hold my finger to my lips, a signal for her to keep it down. We may be in the U.S. but the paparazzi never sleeps. 

“But look!” I whisper back sharply, “I didn’t know she was my business consultant.” 

“How didn’t you know? You didn’t google what she looks like?” Lottie shakes her head.

“Well, I did,” I sigh, “But you know when you see someone in a different setting and they don’t look like how they did the first time you saw them? It’d be like seeing you in a business suit after seeing you in a leather skirt everyday.”

Lottie purses her lip, “Well, I’ll give you that…”

“Exactly. Plus she told me her name was Gina at the bar,” I tell her.

“So she lied about her name even after sleeping with you and you’re still interested?” Lottie arches her brow at me.

“Well…” I consider for a moment, nodding my head side to side, “Sounds about right. Yeah.” 

She leans forward and whispers, “Your business partner is a liar in the sheets, Bobby. Normally, I’d say go for it. Get down and dirty. You deserve someone who you can see yourself with, but I don’t want that kind of woman to end up getting you hurt again. You shouldn’t mix business and pleasure like that.” 

“But you just asked me if she was hot!” I argue.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you to jump into bed with her,” Lottie shots back, but a grin is playing on her lips, “Or to have already jumped into bed with her.”

I shrug and smirk, “What can I say?” I flex my arms, “How could she resist all of this?”

Lottie fakes a gag, “Easily.”

“Killjoy,” I roll my eyes, but smile, “But I’m serious, Lottie. I really like her. Or liked her at the bar. She was actually really embarrassed at the meeting.”

“Please tell me you didn’t tease her or tell anyone,” Lottie asks, obviously already expecting the worst.

“Uhhh…. No,” I rub my thumbs together before sneaking a look up at her. She knows I’m lying.

“Okay, well, I teased her just a little bit. But after we reintroduced ourselves, I was completely professional and so was she.”

“Honest?” Lottie says.

“Honest,” I cross my heart and grin. 

**_Ping_ **. 

I look down as my phone vibrates on the table. 

**New Booty Call:** iMessage 12:38 PM

“Well, well, well…” I glance up at Lottie, “Won’t believe who this is.”

“Oh my god,” she scoots closer to me, looking over my shoulder, “What did she say!?”

“Hold on,” I open the message.

**New Booty Call** : _We need to talk._ _Read 12:38 PM_

That’s never a good start. And with a _period_ on the end? I bite my lip.

“Booty call? You put her number in as Booty Call? I expected more from you, Bobby,” Lottie frowns.

“I didn’t do that, she did it as a joke,” I mumble, typing up a reply. Lottie watches curiously as my thumbs hover over the keyboard. Finally, I sigh. 

“What should I say?”

Lottie considers for a moment, “Well, you do obviously _have_ to talk. But you don’t want to give too much away. Especially if you like her, you need to play your cards right. Speaking of cards, you could probably use some. Dammit,” she frowns, “I don’t think I brought my deck with me.”

“Wait, didn’t you just say I shouldn’t mix business and pleasure?” I ask, arching a brow at Lottie. 

She sighs, “Yeah, sure. If you want to go with the logical answer, but if Love Island taught me anything, you should take risks for love… And I haven’t seen you this happy about a girl in a long time.”

I blush, “I mean yeah, but I’ve only known her for a day…” 

“And now you’re going to work with her for the next couple of months. You have to get this right,” Lottie replies, “You don’t want things to be awkward.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I don’t…” 

I look back at the message on my screen. But what was I going to say to her? Originally, I wanted to keep seeing her, but now our relationship is a bit more complicated than calling her up on a Saturday night whenever I started feeling lonely. 

I didn’t think that’s what I wanted from her anyway. She’d be the beginning of me falling back into my old route if I keep a one-track mind. _Friends with benefits_. 

Or better yet, in this case, business partners with benefits. 

But as the memories and pain associated with my last dating experience come rushing back, I’m like what the hell? Why not? It's not like anything can hurt much worse than being humiliated on international TV. 

“YOLO,” I mumble, pushing that day out of my head as I type out a message. Lottie furrows her brows, still looking over my shoulder. 

**Bobby** : _about what?_ _Delivered_ _12:43 PM_

Lottie’s mouth drops, “Bobby… Are you really about to play dumb?”

I grin and look up at her, “Just trust me. I know how she operates.” 

I think…

**_Ping!_ **

**New Booty Call:** _Are you serious right now?!_ _Read 12:45 PM_

I chuckle, anticipating her fury. I type out a reply. 

**Bobby** : _nah, I’m just joking 😁 name a time and place_ _Delivered 12:48 PM_

**New Booty Call:** _…_ _Read 12:50 PM_

 **New Booty Call:** _You are SO not funny._ _Read 12:50 PM_

**Bobby** : _That’s not what you said last night… 😉_ _Delivered 12:52 PM_

**New Booty Call** _: Bobby…_ _Read 12:56 PM_

 **New Booty Call** _: Actually, you know what?_ _Read 12:56 PM_

 **New Booty Call** _: For the sake of our professional relationship, I’m going to pretend I didn't see that._ _Read 12:56 PM_

**Bobby** _: 🤔🤔 I think our relationship is considered anything but professional_ _Delivered 12:58 PM_

Lottie shakes her head, “She’s going to kill you.”

I laugh, “Probably, but I’ll die a happy man.”

**New Booty Call:** _You’re really not going to make this easy for me, are you?_ _Read 1:01 PM_

**“** Well,” Lottie says as my thumb hovers over the keyboard, “What are going to say?”

I consider for a moment. I could keep teasing her, sending how far I can push her until she stops replying. Or I could stop replying and see what lengths she’s willing to go to talk to me.

That could be fun, but I doubt a woman like her will put up with any shenanigans like that. I’d honestly probably never hear from her again. She didn’t strike me as the playing games type.

“You know,” I say to Lottie, “Sometimes it’s not about what you say, it’s about what you don’t say.”

Lottie rolls her eyes, “So you’re not going to respond?”

“Are you out of your mind?” I tell her, looking up, my eyes wide, “Hell yeah I’m going to respond.”

I look down at my phone, “I’m just going to be a bit more… subtle? Is that the word?”

Lottie snorts, arching her perfect brow at me, “You? Subtle?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a smirk, “Watch.”

**Bobby** _: time and place?_ _Delivered 1:03 PM_

**New Booty Call** _: The Chipped Cup, 5 PM_ _Read 1:07 PM_

 **New Booty Call:** _Here’s the directions_ _Read: 1:08 PM_

 **New Booty Call** _: And don’t be late this time._ _Read 1:10 PM_

I laugh, rolling my eyes. Like _she_ wasn’t the reason why I was late this morning. I had to call an Uber to my hotel and get ready in less than 10 minutes thanks to her. She obviously didn’t wake me up until the last possible minute. Though the coffee she gave me was pretty good.

But now I could remind her that _she_ works for _me_ and not the other way around, but I’ll save that for later. When I actually needed it. 

**Bobby** : _sure thing, buttercup 👍🏽_ _Delivered 1:15 PM_

**New Booty Call:** _Don’t call me buttercup_ _Read 1:20 PM_

 **New Booty Call:** _And change my name in your phone!_ _Read 1:20 PM_

 **New Booty Call:** _Like NOW._ _Read 1:20 PM_

“Wow,” Lottie says, taking a sip of her tea as she reads the messages, “You actually like her? She seems kind of… Like an asshole.”

I laugh, “Sure, but she’s a cute asshole.”

“Type A isn’t your usual type,” Lottie says and I shrug.

“I guess I’m trying something new,” I respond, typing up a new message. 

**Bobby** : _one condition_ _Delivered 1:23 PM_

 **Bobby** : _let me call you buttercup_ _Delivered 1:23 PM_

 **Bobby** : _you’re like that powerpuff girl_ _Delivered 1:23 PM_

 **Bobby** : _all grumpy and cute 💚_ _Delivered 1:24 PM_

**New Booty Call** : _..._ _Read 1:28 PM_

 **New Booty Call** : _Fine_ _Read 1:28 PM_

 **New Booty Call** _: Just don’t be late_ _Read 1:29 PM_

“Wow,” Lottie laughs, “I honestly didn’t expect her to be okay with that.”

“It’s because she’s already in love with me,” I respond with a grin, “I’m joking by the way.” 

Like obviously. I’m _always_ joking about that crap now. Since that’s all everyone ever took me as anyway. A joke.

Lottie leans back and crosses her legs, “If you say so. But now, what are you going to tell her when you meet her?”

  
I grin, "That's the question, innit?"


	4. It Never Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shrugs, “Don’t always take what I say to heart, Bobby.”
> 
> “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, arching a brow at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Cussing, sexual references and language

**Bobby’s POV**

  
I didn’t really arrive with any expectations. But I can admit I’m pleasantly surprised as I climb the steps and open the door to the hidden gem Samantha’s exposing me to.

The ambience is warm and inviting, a vintage flair enhanced by the thick golden frames on the wall. The place is a little crowded, but everyone seems chill, patiently waiting on their drinks. Some people are sitting at tables pretending to look busy as they scroll on their laptops while others are chatting with friends. 

This is nice. The atmosphere is something I’d like at my bakery without the vintage. I’d want it to be more homey, less trendy with a whole lot more pastries in the window and less coffee. 

I don’t bother getting in line to order since it’s so long. Samantha’s already here, waiting for me at some table in an outdoor courtyard anyway. 

I decided not to test her patience and actually arrived on time, but she still got here ten minutes early. She texted me to let me know to meet her in the back and so I cut through the crowd in that direction, pushing open the door to the outdoor space.

Greenery is overflowing and poking through several inches of a chain linked fence, ‘Harlem’ is spelled out in blue and white letters along the bottom of the wall. Flowers and brushes are spread throughout the seating arrangement. The place is pretty cool, but I couldn’t imagine the upkeep of it all. 

My eyes search the courtyard for big hair and honey blonde curls and I find her immediately. She’s still dressed in the green fitted skirt and sleeveless blouse from our meeting. 

My eyes can’t resist traveling from the crown of her head to her strappy heels, remembering how I’ve never seen a woman look so good with a scowl on her face as she looked when I opened my eyes this morning.

Normally, I do whatever I can to make sure that people aren’t mad at me. But her? Something about her makes me want to annoy the crap of her. Maybe it’s because I think that actually helps to loosen her up? I see straight through her tough exterior to a woman who just wants a good laugh. I have a feeling she’s actually a soft and fluffy cinnamon bun underneath it all.

Honestly? I dunno… But she’s hot as hell. Reasons why I wasn’t above begging for her number. 

Samantha doesn’t see me and is instead sipping from a mug, her eyes glued to her phone as her glasses slide down to the tip of her nose. 

I honestly don’t understand how they make her look even sexier. Maybe it’s the color? She actually kinda looks like a cool stylish teacher I’d probably have a crush on. 

I grin and make my way over, noticing that she actually has two cups of coffee on the table. She and Marisol would obviously get along. Not that I’ve talked to Marisol in a couple of months. 

Samantha finally looks up, noticing me for the first time as she pushes her glasses back up. Her lips immediately press into a fine line as I sit and I just want to reach across and kiss her until she smiles. 

“Hi buttercup,” I say with a grin, relaxing into my chair across from her. She rolls her eyes and pushes the other coffee mug towards me.

“I got you a cup since the lines tend to get long here,” she says, ignoring my greeting. 

“Awe,” I smile, honestly kinda confused. I wasn’t expecting her to be so thoughtful but she’s already surprised me with coffee twice today, “Thank you… Buttercup.”

Her nose flares and she inhales deeply before shaking her head. She doesn’t respond, leaning back in her chair, tapping her almond shaped nails against the table as she looks at me intently. Her brown eyes drift over me and I’m suddenly a bit nervous.

I can’t tell if I’m in trouble or if she wants to pounce on me. And well, I haven’t felt all that nervous in the past two years, not really caring if I mess things up or not anymore.

“What?” I say, frigging the mug in my hand before taking a sip. It’s mocha. I can taste the ganache. She must have a thing for chocolate, note taken, “Do you like what you see or do I have lettuce in my teeth? I can’t tell.”

She snorts and shakes her head again, looking away as she tries not to laugh, “How about neither, Mr. McKenize?” 

“Mr. McKenize?” I sigh dramatically, sitting the mug on the table, “And here I thought we were way past formalities, buttercup.”

She turns back and faces me, a fine smile on her lips, “No, we’re not. You can address me as Ms. Robins from now on.”

Now she’s really playing into the whole teacher thing. The idea is kinda sexy, but from the tone of her voice, I have a feeling we’re not thinking about the same thing. 

“Ms. Robins?” I repeat with a frown, “Can we at least stay on a first name basis?”

“Can you stop calling me buttercup?” She asks, her eyebrow arched as she crosses her arms over her chest. I love the attitude. 

But I can’t pretend I don’t see what she’s trying to do. Martine’s prepared me for this.

I press my lips together in a fine line, “Is this really about me calling you buttercup or is about setting up boundaries?”

Her lips curve into a smirk, “Bingo. Now I think we’re on the same page.” 

I bite my lip and every joke I had prepared for this meeting dies on the tip of my tongue. 

Okay, did I probably come to this meeting overly optimistic? Yes. 

Did I come to this meeting prepared to face rejection even though, _once again_ , I should have seen it coming? Hell no. 

I need to stop ignoring Martine’s advice and start ignoring Lottie instead. I should have learned that in Villa since she was wrong then. And I guess she’s wrong now too.

I look down at the mug in my hand before forcing a grin onto my face, glancing up at Samantha, “I guess you are a bit more like Maleficent then I thought.”

She laughs softly, crossing her legs under the table as she takes a sip from her own mug, “I tried to warn you.” 

I watch as she places the mug back on the table, her simple mannerisms seem well-practiced and graceful. I have a feeling she’s what my mum would call a “proper lady.” 

Martine would probably say something more along the lines of her having a pole stuck up her ass. I have to stop myself from laughing out loud at the thought, knowing Martine thinks I’m crazy for sleeping with Samantha in the first place. 

Lottie was right, Samantha’s not my usual type. I tend to go for girls who are more laid back and know how to chill. My type of woman tends to dress more casually and I’m doubtful that Samantha even owns a pair of sweatpants. But that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to have fun. 

We had _plenty_ last night and this morning. And it’s rewarding to know that I helped her relax and have fun. I just wish I’d have the opportunity to do it again. 

“But seriously,” Samantha looks back up at me, pulling me from my thoughts, “We need to talk about last night.” 

I shift in my chair and shrug, “What’s to talk about?” 

“Um,” she furrows her brows at me, “Maybe the fact that we had sex last night?”

Okay. So I really tried to stop the smile from showing on my face. I promise I did, but I couldn’t help it. As my smile grows, her cheeks turn pink and she looks away. 

I can tell she’s trying to fight her own smile as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and runs a hand over her hair. She’s adorable as she tries to distract herself by fluffing up those tight curls. 

She’s obviously not as hard as she’s trying to play out. I guess no one usually sees past her charades, but I see a woman who knows how to take a joke with a heart of gold under an icy exterior. I just wonder if she’ll melt for me. 

I grin and lean across the table. She freezes as I take her by the chin and pull her face close to mine, forcing her to meet my eyes, “Was it really just sex? Or do you actually like me?” 

She swallows as an intense heat roars to life in her brown eyed gaze, her lips parting slightly as her eyes flicker to my lips. It’s like I can see and feel the memory of last night playing through her mind and I’m encouraged to brush my lips against hers, but as soon as I do, she’s pulling away. 

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she says, her voice breathless as she looks away and crosses her arms back over her chest. Her cheeks are pink and flustered. 

She tries to avoid my eyes as I tilt my head and offer her a cheeky grin, “Why not?”

“This isn’t a game, Bobby,” she snaps, finally turning back to face me with a frown. Her voice turns into a harsh whisper as she leans towards me with narrowed eyes, “We are _business_ _partners_. You could get me fired. Do you understand that?!”

My body turns rigid and I blink in surprise, “Fired?”

Samantha sighs and removes her glasses before dragging her hands over her face, “Yes, Bobby. _Fired_.”

She rubs the back of her neck, obviously stressed as she explains, “It’s against company policy to have relationships with our clients. Do you not realize how bad that looks? People will start saying that I slept with you so you’d hire our firm instead of our competitors. They’d have a field day with that.”

“No,” I admit, looking down at my mug as I pull it back into my hands. I sigh as I absorb what she’s telling me, feeling foolish for not thinking of it before, “No… I didn’t think about that.” 

“So…” she starts, folding her glasses as she looks up at me, “You can imagine why I want to ask you to forget that last night ever happened.”

You know they say that it's better to have loved and lost rather than never to have loved at all? 

Unfortunately, I’m well aware of the fact that’s bullshit.

I know I should have seen this coming rather than trying to think up ways to win her over.

If I still try to see her, it’d be a matter of time before someone found out or the paparazzi caught her on my arm. Because looking at her now, I’d want to show her off. How could I not? 

To top it off, I’m not necessarily a closed book or a ‘stay-at-home’ on a Friday night kinda guy. 

So why start a relationship I’d be forced to hide? I mean I’m not exactly looking for a long-term relationship or to even make her my girlfriend. Whatever we’d build would crumble once I head back to the U.K. anyway. 

It would have been different if I wasn’t risking her job. I could get what I needed from her and _finally_ rebound from the woman who broke my heart. I’d eventually find a way to just be friends with Samantha, using the distance as an excuse to fade apart. But she could help me learn how to move on with my love life. 

Yet I couldn’t sleep at night if I was the reason why she lost a job that she loved. You could hear it in her voice as she described to me exactly how she planned to help spread my bakery here. She’s good at what she does, nailing down a plan that would have my business up and running in two month’s time now that the building is remodeled and complete. She’s ready to commit 110 percent of her time to my passion. And honestly, why would I want anyone else working on this project? 

From a personal and business perspective, it wouldn’t be worth the stress just to have her naked and in my arms again. No matter how much the passion in her eyes sets my heart on fire or how her body screams my name and has me ready to beg for another taste. 

I want her. I want her terribly. Just not enough. 

“Yeah,” I finally agree, flickering my gaze up to meet her eyes, “I understand.” 

Samantha blinks in surprise, her brows furrowing together, “You… do?” 

I shrug, “Yeah. You’re right. We need to keep it professional. I like you,” I hesitate, the words left my mouth unintentionally, “But… I… Um.. I wouldn’t ask you to risk your job for me. We just met afterall. Besides you’re the best person for the job. There’s no way I’m going anywhere else.” 

She sits back, biting the corner of her lip as if she didn’t expect my answer and now she’s unsure of what to say.

I arch my brow at her, the corner of my lip upturn in a smirk, “What? Surprised? Men usually push back a little harder for you, don’t they?” 

Okay, so _maybe_ I said that a little maliciously. I didn’t entirely believe her when she said she didn’t hook up with people on a regular basis. Honestly, it’s more like I can’t imagine anyone resisting her charm. 

But the truth is I’m a little hurt at being rejected the first time I stepped out on a limb again. I know it’s not right for me to take it out on her and I regret my words immediately as she grimaces and avoids my eyes. 

“No…” Samantha says with a sigh, “I told you I don’t do this type of thing...” 

But just as I open my mouth to apologize, she glances at me and grins, “I was just prepared specifically for _you_ to get on your knees again. Can’t lie. I’m a little disappointed.” 

I arch my brow and can’t help to return her grin, “Are we talking about the begging or…?”

I catch the way her eyes twinkle with amusement before she glances away from me, covering her mouth with her hand. She shakes her head, resisting the urge to giggle. 

She must really hate giving me any credit for making her laugh, but fortunately, her attempts to hide her reactions give me all the satisfaction I need. 

I chuckle as she finally lowers her hand, taking a deep breath before she looks back towards me, “I mean I was talking about the begging. Not sure what else you could be referring to since _last night_ never happened.”

“Hey,” I lift my hands and shrug, “You said it. Not me.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Okay. That was the last time either of us mentions last night. And this is the last time we talk about last night. The last time it even crosses our minds,” she looks me in the eyes, “It. Never. Happened.” 

“It. Never. Happened,” I repeat, but my eyes drift to her lips and I really wish I could kiss her again. Guess I should grab another bottle of lotion on the way back to the hotel. 

“Good,” she says, rolling her shoulders back as she finally relaxes in her chair. She bites her lips as she looks at me and I just really wish I knew what’s going on in her head. She can be so straightforward, but it intrigues me when she gets this look on her face. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

She blinks, before taking another sip of her coffee. My eyes shift down as her tongue darts over her peach-colored lips, quickly capturing remnants of the brown liquid. 

She finally returns her gaze to me and blushes, “Like what?”

“Like I’m a chocolate cake and you’re a fat kid,” And as soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m reminded of why I haven’t dated in so long. Because I’m an _idiot_. 

Samantha’s eyes go wide and I’m surprised when she bursts out laughing. 

“Did you just call me _fat_ , Bobby?” she grins at me playfully, “I know I’m a little juicy, but come on. You can do better than that.”

First of all, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her body. If anything, it’s too perfect. 

_Trust. Me._

I know. I’ve seen all of it. I’ve squeezed it, I’ve held it, I’ve fucked it. And I even wanted to do it all over again, but I can’t say that _now_ … Since we’re pretending it never happened.

“No!” I blush uncontrollably, “I was just thinking of like… That gif with that kid with cake.”

I just don’t always think before I speak, reinforcing the fact that I’m a dumbass. 

“From Matilda?” Samantha laughs even harder and shakes her head, “There’s nothing wrong with being thick and juicy, but is it really polite to talk about weight, Bobby?”

I totally didn’t say anything about her weight, but she must enjoy torturing me, “But I didn’t —” 

She picks up her mug, trying not to giggle as she lifts it to her lips, “Hush. I’ll let it slide this time. I can tell by those rosy pink cheeks you already know what’s up. You’re just real lucky you cute, boy.” 

My cheeks burn. I don’t even know what to say as my mouth hangs open with an empty response. But I can tell that Samantha’s loosening up again, her voice takes on a thicker accent when she gets comfortable and I like it. But I’m too embarrassed to say anything about it. 

Plus, she thinks I’m cute? 

Samantha shakes her head again as she looks at me and giggles, sitting her mug onto the table.

“So…” I say, swallowing as I finally gain some composure, “Are we flirting? Is that allowed?”

“The right answer is no,” Samantha replies simply. 

I frown, “But you just said I was cute?”

She smiles and rolls her eyes, “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m flirting.”

“But…” I furrow my brows, “I think that’s flirting.”

She only grins at me and I think I’ve finally met my match. I never understood it when people said I was flirtatious or a player because I didn’t _intentionally_ behave that way. But now I think I finally understand how frustrating it could be. But she straight up said I was cute, right? I didn’t imagine it, did I? 

I pause and shake my head, “That’s definitely flirting, Samantha.”

She shrugs, “Don’t always take what I say to heart, Bobby.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, arching a brow at her, “Does that mean I’m actually not cute?”

She giggles and shrugs again, “Does it matter?”

“To me, yeah,” I reply, pouting my lip at her. 

“Too bad,” She bites her lip and chuckles, “But maybe... We need to lay down some rules about our relationship.”

I blink in confusion as she leans forward, counting on her fingers, “Rule number one, we don’t talk about last night. Rule number two, no more flirting. Rule number three, no nicknames. You call me Samantha or Ms. Robins. Nothing else. Rule number four, if it isn’t about work, we don’t talk about it. And rule number five, don’t randomly show up on my doorsteps since you know where I live.

Well, that’s all disappointing. Not that I planned to show up at her place uninvited, but she’s obviously prepared all of these _rules_. I try to tell myself that rules aren’t meant to be broken, but my knee starts bouncing at the prospect of finding and exploiting loopholes. 

She nods her head towards me and arches her brow, “Got it?” 

Rules _aren’t_ meant to be broken, I remind myself as I sigh, “I get it, Samantha. Rule number one, you do not talk about fight club.”

“And rule number two,” she adds.

“You do not talk about fight club,” we say together and she smiles. 

“You know,” I add, tapping my chin as I think. I can’t help myself as she furrows her brows at me, “I do think the third rule is… Something about tapping out? I’m sure _you_ remember what that one is.”

Her eyes go wide, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as she looks at me in surprise. Once again, she’s trying not to laugh, but this time she recovers quickly. She purses her lip as she stands up and grabs her purse. 

“Wait!” I say in surprise as I stand up. I grab her arm as she walks by me, “What are you doing?”

“I’m showing you what happens when you don’t follow the rules,” She replies, removing my hand from her arm. She flips her hair before looking me up and down, “Hopefully, you’ll have them memorized by Monday, _Mr. McKenzie_.” 

My jaw drops in disbelief as she walks away, her hips swaying in that tight skirt in a way that takes my breath away. Shocked that this woman can be so hot and cold in such a short period of time. 

And then I’m all kinds of confused when she opens the door to the building and pauses. She looks over her shoulder and bites her lip. 

She seems to be debating something in her head before she allows a grin to spread across her face and she winks at me, stepping through the door and closing it behind her. 

My brows furrow as a guy from the table beside ours lets out a low whistle. 

I realize I actually forgot where I am and I snap my head towards him, wondering if he overheard our conversation. More importantly, wondering if he was checking her out. Because I’m not the jealous type, but I won’t have anyone catcalling her when she can’t defend herself.

But he seems innocent enough as he peers at me from over his laptop. He’s probably five years older than me with eyes that have seen way too much and a bearded face. I don’t even know if he was actually looking at her by the way his eyes are trained on me. 

“Good luck with that one, buddy,” he says, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to his laptop, “You’re gonna need it.” 

I sigh, scratching my head. Honestly? He’s right. 


	5. A Couple Thousand

**Samantha’s POV**

_  
Finally _. 

It’s Saturday morning. I don’t have anywhere to be. I don’t have any work to do.

And most importantly, I can mentally prepare myself for the coming weeks ahead of working with Mr. Bobby McKenzie, my new client. And in my mind, he’s also my secret nemesis who I need to find a way to hate with every fiber of my being in order to resist his charms.

I can’t stand him. 

And now that my new daily affirmation is out the way, I’m curled up on my emerald sofa with satin pajamas and a cup of coffee. The Office is playing on my TV in the background and sunlight pours in through the bay windows of my unit as I scroll through my phone.

The makeup gurus, art pieces from local artists, and workouts videos I always save but never actually do are what mostly make up my unimpressive feed. I’ll stop occasionally and consider buying a cute item from my favorite business owners but I decide against it and keep scrolling. 

_Just keep scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. What do we do? We scroll, scroll…_

I’m honestly bored out of my mind until an image of _him_ pops up on my timeline. 

Leon _motherfucking_ Bryce. 

Now. Who is Leon you may ask? 

Well, let me tell you.

Tall, dark, and handsome with green eyes and a serious case of amnesia. 

It’s funny how one can forget two dates in a row and never call you back. 

You know I like to think I’m understanding. 

If you need to cancel, I’m flexible. Just say _something_. How hard is it to send a text or pick up the phone? I mean even a DM or a Snapchat would have even been acceptable.

Just don’t leave me sitting alone in a five-star restaurant for thirty minutes with an empty bottle of wine and a wounded ego. _Twice_. 

Why am I even still following him? 

I click on his profile and pause.

_4,561 Followers._

I bite my lip. 

You know... I bet Bobby would have called me back. Normally, I don’t check my client’s personal social media accounts. I focus on creating a business one or modifying it. But if I knew he had been on reality TV before our meeting, I probably would have checked his account and I wouldn’t even be in this mess. 

But there’s no harm in checking it now, right? 

Forgetting my original mission to unfollow Leon, I go to the search bar and type in his name. 

**Bakerboi.Bobs** — His profile pops up immediately, a photo of him laughing in a teal hoodie is his icon. It’s tiny but I can tell it has an artistic cupcake designed on it. His signature logo. 

The photo is disgustingly cute. 

But then I click on his actual account...

He’s verified with 2.9 million followers and I choke.

Coughing up the coffee that went down the wrong pipe, I toss my phone and sit the cup on my coffee table and hack. Beating against my chest until the initial shock subsides. 

I saw that, correctly, right? 

I pick my phone back up and look again. 

2.9 _million_ followers. 

Every marketing consultant’s wet dream but my personal worst nightmare. _Unbelievable_.

I scouch back into my sofa, bringing my phone close to my face as I begin to go through his feed, my nails tapping against the screen. 

He has a bunch of saved highlights and his feed is filled with photos of cupcakes and various pastries, images of his bakeries spread throughout the U.K.. Occasionally, there’s photos of him out with friends, at some event, or on vacation. There’s rarely any selfies unless he’s marketing some product or clothing brand. And apparently, he has a podcast with some guy named Gary Rennell? 

Why in the world did he even second glance at me? I can’t believe this is the same man I met two nights ago. He’s literally a celebrity. 

I pause and click on a particular photo of him at an event or nightclub. He’s gorgeous and laughing out loud. He’s dressed in all-black with a drink in his hand, his other arm wrapped around a drop-dead gorgeous woman in a skintight red dress and _damn_ , I wish I had her boobs. She’s laughing along with him, her arms wrapped around his waist and I’m totally not jealous.

Not one single bit. 

Did he date her? I bite my lip and read the caption. Apparently, it’s a birthday shout out and her name is Priya. But I can’t tell from the caption if they were together or not. But he says that his “rap-battle partner”...? What does that even mean? 

I furrow my brows in confusion before going back to his main feed. He even has a couple of interview segments and as much as I’m tempted to watch them, I decide against it. Maybe later.

I purse my lip before going back to the top of his feed. He has a story posted, but I don’t want him to know I watched it… But he has so many followers, surely he wouldn’t notice if I take a peek? 

I debate back and forth in my head before finally clicking on the icon and _shit_. 

It’s not a story, he’s _live_. He’s laying on his stomach, resting his chin on his forearm and his freckled face nearly fills the frame. You can barely see that Martine is sitting on the bed behind him, dressed in cute pajamas as she makes faces at her own phone. 

“Sis,” he says, his eyes bored, watching the comment section until he suddenly furrows his brows. 

_Shit shit shit_ , can he see that I joined? Would he even know who I am? My username has nothing to do with my actual name, I chew on my lip and convince myself I’m safe when he doesn’t say anything.

Honestly, I should exit out now, but I’m intrigued by the number of comments he’s getting. There’s no way he saw my username or icon the way the comments and fans are flooding in. 

And _wow_ , these chicks are thirsty. 

“Sis,” he winces when Martine never answers him. He uses his foot to kick her in the leg. 

“What, Bobby?” She snaps, looking up from her phone. 

He grins and angles the phone for a better view of her, “Say hi to the people.” 

She rolls her eyes but comes to lay beside him before mushing his face out of view and grinning at the camera, “Hi people!”

The comment section floods with heart eyes and comments talking about how beautiful she is and how they love their sibling dynamic, is Martine ever going to go on Love Island, and why haven’t the two of them started their own show? 

I laugh in disbelief when someone comments asking Martine to convince Bobby to marry her so that they can be sisters-in-law. But then someone else asks Bobby to give them twins and I think that, maybe, I’ve seen enough. 

I exit out and shake my head. No wonder he barely posts his selfies. I can only imagine the comments. 

I suck on my teeth and lay my phone on my chest, tapping my nails on the hardcover of my phone case. I adjust on the sofa so I don’t give myself a crank in my neck and stare up at the ceiling. 

I can’t believe that I’ve been with a man who has 2.9 million followers on Instagram. I don’t even want to dream about checking his twitter account. I couldn’t possibly compete with _that_ . Or even put up with that level of fame. There’s a million girls out there that want him and he _has_ to be a player. It’s always the ones that can make you laugh. 

All the more reason for me to keep things professional between us. 

_Oh yeah_ , and plus the fear of losing my job. 

I bite my lip, hating the fact that I’m thinking about him first thing in the morning for no good reason. 

I need a distraction.

I pick my phone back up and go to my messages. 

**Samantha:** _Breakfast @ Standard?_ _Delivered 8:02 AM_

**Melissa:** _Why not HSH? It’s closer_ _Read 8:05 AM_

**Samantha:** _I want to go up to High Line afterwards for a walk_ _Delivered 8:07 AM_

**Melissa** _: Ugh. You can’t just take a walk in the park?_ _Read 8:10 AM_

**Samantha** : _It’s not the same_ Delivered 8:12 AM

**Melissa** : _*sigh* I’ll meet you there. 9:30?_ Read 8:15 AM

**Samantha** : _Sure. Thanks, friend 🤗_ Delivered 8:17 AM

**Melissa** : 🖕🏽 Read 8:20 AM

I chuckle, loving my friend for keeping it real. Time to get ready. 

I opted for a more casual look today. Fitted dark purple athletic leggings with accent pockets and a matching sports bra. I also have on a flowy white crop that’s a bit longer in order to show a bit of modesty. My hair is slicked back into a puff, my edges hidden under my favorite hat.

It’s a typical baseball cap, but the back is cut out for my hair so that I can actually wear a baseball cap in the first place. The woman who came up with this? An absolute genius. I might have gone overboard and brough like 5 of them. This is one denim with “curly hair don’t care’ written on the front. And I love it. 

I open the door to my favorite breakfast spot, removing my sunglasses as I step inside. It’s about thirty minutes away from where I live so I pass a lot of other places to get here, but it’s special to me. It’s the first place I went to for breakfast with my family when I visited for college. 

I go ahead and get a seat in one of the booths, ordering a cup of coffee and a glass of water. Melissa tends to be adventurous and switches her order up daily so I decide to let her order her own drink. She arrives shortly after me, waving as she walks through the door.

“Hey girl!” She grins at me, sliding into the booth across from me. 

“Good morning,” I reply, my brows furrowing together at her chirp mood. I’m immediately made suspicious by the grin on her face. 

She giggles and shakes her head. She doesn’t respond as the waiter walks over and takes her drink order. Orange juice is her choice today.

“So...,” she says, biting her lip. She’s bursting with energy and I’m disgusted. 

This was a bad idea. Why didn’t I text Carla instead?

“Do not ask me anything about Bobby McKenize,” I say, giving her a knowing look, “I don’t want to hear his name. I don’t want to see his face. I don’t know anything about him except he’s my client and he likes to bake.”

And with that, I pick up the menu and pretend to look over it even though I already know what I’m ordering. 

“Booo,” Melissa says with a sigh. She scouches back and takes a sip of her juice, “If I knew you were gonna be like that I would have stayed at home.”

I glance up at her, my lips press into a fine line, “Did you really only show up to get the tea?”

She grins at me and shrugs, “Maybe a cookie too. I mean you _did_ meet up with him after work.”

“That was only so I could set the record straight,” I tell her with a sigh, “We really shouldn’t be talking about this anyway. It’s against company policy.”

“What? You don’t trust me now?” Melissa replies with an eye roll. She leans forward, gesturing with her hands, “Girl, I’m not going to rat you out. You didn’t know who he was.” 

“I do trust you,” I reply, finally sitting the menu down, “It’s just that I would prefer not to talk about it. It’s embarrassing, do you know how many followers he has?”

Melissa shakes her head, “It’s just reality TV. What? A couple thousand?”

“Try a couple million,” I say and Melissa’s jaw drops. 

“You’re joking,” she gasps.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I say, tilting my head in annoyance. 

“Wow,” she says, shaking her head, “I didn’t realize Love Island was that popular.” 

I sigh and our conversation is put on pause as the waiter comes back to take our orders. I just order my usual.

“So if anyone saw y’all together, it’d only be a matter of time before the whole world knew, huh?” Melissa says once the waiter walks away.

“Exactly,” I bite my lip, “I don’t have time for that.” 

“But I mean,” Melissa starts with a shrug, “He ain’t broke, he’s handsome, he’s funny and really nice. You could just quit and never have to work again.”

I frown and roll my eyes, “I only slept with him once, Melissa. I’m not about to marry the guy.”

  
“But, I mean, you _couldddd_ ,” she suggests, puckering her lips to the side. 

“Oh, yeah,” I say sarcastically, “Let me just call him real quick and ask if he’d be down for that.” 

“You joke, but he probably would be. I mean, have you seen your ass?” Melissa grins and shrugs. I try not to laugh and roll my eyes again. 

“I highly doubt that, Melissa,” I smile at her, “Thank you for the suggestion. But I think I’m just going to throw it in the trash.” 

She giggles and rolls her eyes, “Whatever, Samantha. You don’t have to be so rude.” 

I arch my brow, “How was that rude?”

Melissa just shakes her head and laughs. She smiles at me warmly, “But really, girl… Are you okay? Like, did you talk to him about everything? If you want me to take over lead, I don’t mind.”

“No,” I say, taking a deep breath before taking a sip of water, “It’s fine. I can handle it. I told him how it’s against company policy and he was actually… very understanding. I mean he still tried to make some jokes, but I think he understands that we can’t be romantically involved.”

“Completely platonic and professional, huh?” Melissa asks. 

“Completely,” I reply, avoiding her eyes. Okay, did I purposely tease him a bit yesterday? A little, but the man deserved it after he embarrassed me at work that morning. I just hoped he realizes that I didn’t mean anything by it. 

“You’re not telling me something,” She says, crossing her arms over the table and leaning forward.

“What?” I look up at her in disbelief, “What do you mean?”

“I can see it on you,” she narrows her eyes, “Spill it.” 

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m cut off as our waiter brings out our food. We thank him and begin to tuck in. I’m thankful for the momentary silence until Melissa brings it back up again.

“Go on now,” she says, taking a bite of food, “You know I’ll keep asking until you tell me the truth.”

I frown and stuff my mouth with french toast and strawberries. 

She arches a brow and waits patiently for me to swallow.

I sigh, twirling my fork around my plate, “What? There’s nothing to tell.”

Melissa pokes out her bottom lip, her face lighting up in adoration.

“Awe. _Samantha_ ,” she says with a smile, reaching out and covering my hand with hers, “You really like him, don’t you?” 

“No!” I snap, my cheeks turning pink, “I _don’t_. It was a one time thing. And that’s all it was ever going to be. Business partners or not.”

Melissa obviously doesn’t believe me and sighs dreamily, “Love at first sight and realizing your forbidden lovers, I love it.” 

I take my hand from under hers, narrowing my eyes at her. This girl is crazy.

“Melissa, this is not a story from one of your cheesy romance novels,” I say, rolling my eyes, “Love at first slight doesn’t ex—.”

“Oh,” Melissa interrupts me, holding up a finger, “But it does. You just don’t always realize what it is until later.”

“I’m just going to ask the waiter for another table so I can eat my food in peace,” I shake my head, “So I’m not disturbed with all this love at first sight bullshit.”

Melissa folds her arms over her chest and huffs, “You’re the one who invited me.”

“Yeah, but I thought we’d talk about real life stuff,” I say, taking a bite of food, “Like did you see that Oscar brought a vacation house? Or have you seen Leon lately? The asshole still looks fine as hell. Or maybe you’d prefer to talk about _Natasha_?”

Melissa goes stiff and I grin, knowing I found the right topic. 

She bites her lip, “What about Natasha?”

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about,” I chuckle, “Are y’all still quote-on-quote chillin’?”

Melissa’s dark-skin flushes and she takes a sip of juice, trying not to smile. 

“Maybe,” she grins at me, sitting her cup on the table. Her dark eyes twinkle as she begins to tell me the latest update in her new-found relationship. 

There’s nothing like being in the company of a hopeless romantic, in love, on a Saturday morning. 


	6. Zero to None

Melissa decided to head home after breakfast, leaving me to walk the High Line alone. Which I didn’t mind. 

That just means there’s no one complaining about their feet hurting after twenty minutes and I can listen to my favorite songs uninterrupted. I can stop and stare at the art for however long I want and no one’s rushing me along. 

I can occupy my mind with my own interpretations of the world or with stories of strangers passing by. I’m finally starting to relax after my eventful weekend, accepting that I properly took care of business yesterday. And an hour is long enough before I decide it’s time to head home.

I basically hop down the staircase that leads to the street below, deciding to stop at the CVS to grab something to drink before I head to the station. I normally bring a water bottle, but I didn’t today since I had breakfast with Melissa earlier. 

I step into the store, putting my headphones in my pocket, and heading straight to the drinks on the far wall. I won’t be in here long so I don’t bother taking my sunglasses off. 

I grab a bottle and get in line, pulling out my phone as I wait. I text Melissa to make sure she made it home until I hear a familiar laugh and accent coming from the door. 

No _fucking_ way. I grit my teeth and don’t move, peeking from the corner of my eyes to confirm who it is.

And sure enough, it’s him. The universe must think it’s funny. 

“I’m just gonna grab a snack and something to drink,” Bobby tells his sister, “You and Lottie want something?”

Martine nods, “Yeah, get me a water.”

“I brought mine,” a blonde woman with pink hair tips holds up her black water bottle and grins, “Better for the environment.”

“We’ll recycle,” Bobby tells her with a grin before heading inside as she rolls her eyes. 

Of all the places in New York City. He and his sister… And whoever that _other_ _woman_ was must have decided to visit the High Line today of all days; right now of all times. 

Can’t he just stay locked up in his hotel? Shouldn’t he need, like, a security guard or something to go out anyway?

I keep my head down, making sure my hat covers my face as I turn and immediately head to the back of the store. 

Unfortunately, as I make my way down the aisle, he comes around the back way and ends up on the same spot. After all, it ends up being the _snack_ aisle.

That’s what I get for not paying attention. I freeze and turn immediately, rushing to the next aisle over trying to look natural as I silently scream inside. 

I casually walk to the end of this aisle, cards and assorted items line the walls. Once I get to the end, I stop and peek around the corner. 

I don’t think he noticed me. Bobby is looking up and down the wall, picking bags of chips just to sit them down again. 

He cruises down the aisle, rubbing his chin as his eyes drift and land on the candy. He seems hesitant until he picks up a box of M&Ms, giving them a shake just to sit them back down again. 

I’m too busy watching his hands to notice that his eyes drift over to me and he knows I’m there. 

He casually walks towards the end of the aisle, stopping right before he gets to the end causing me to panic and hide.

I swallow, my heart beating heavy in my chest and I just hope he didn’t see me nor recognize who I was. 

I peek back around the corner and he’s right there, a smirk edged onto his face as I met his eyes. I squeal and turn to run in the other direction but suddenly he grabs my arm and I’m being turned back towards him. 

He laughs, tilting his head to the side in that cocky way of his as I’m paralyzed with embarrassment all over again.

“Now,” he says with a grin, reaching up to my sunglasses, “Who could my stalker be?” 

My eyes go wide as he uses both hands to remove my sunglasses and I don’t know what to do. 

Do I still try to run away? Do I push him? Do I smack his hands? I actually end up doing a whole lot of nothing as he slides the glasses from my face.

He chuckles once he removes them. He pushes the tip of my cap up to get a better look at my face before brushing the back of his hand over my cheek. 

His hand is soft and my heart is hammering. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as he looks at me. 

Amusement twinkles in his eyes as they drift over my face, “Tsk tsk tsk, Samantha. Are you a part of the paparazzi now or you decided you can’t leave me alone?” 

I scowl and try to grab my glasses from his hands, but he moves too fast and I end up stepping way too close to him. My chest bumps into his as I stand on my tippy toes trying to follow his hand up and over my head. 

Why did I have to be short? And why did he have to smell so damn good? 

Bobby looks down at me and he chuckles. His other arm comes to wrap around my waist and he uses the hand on my hip to pull me back down onto the soles of my feet. 

I stop my reaching and blush, realizing I’m all up in his grill and this is definitely not a professional level of space between us. 

I step back immediately and focus on the laces of my shoes, “Can I have my sunglasses back, please?” 

“Hmm,” Bobby says. He pulls his hand down and examines them, flipping them over in his hands, “I don’t know... I kind of like them myself.” 

I frown and look up just in time to see him put the black frames on over his own face and he grins at me, “How do I look?” 

I can’t help but smile. Yes, he’s a cutie. Does he probably wear them better than me? Yes. 

But am I doing to admit that? Nope. 

I reach up faster this time, getting my hands on them but just as I’m finally pulling a way and cocking back to run, he grabs my wrists and laughs. 

Am I really that slow? 

He smirks at me, pulling me close again as he lowers my wrist. 

God, why did you make him so unfairly beautiful and quick? 

My breath hitches as he brings his freckled face closer to mine, his hazel eyes gleaming, “I guess I’ll take that as a no?” 

I don’t answer and instead avoids his eyes, trying to gain control over my breath and beating heart.

I hear him sigh and he lets go of my wrists. I bring my hands behind my back and glance back towards him to find his arms crossed over his chest, his brow arched at me.

“Well, since you won’t answer that, maybe you’ll tell me why you’re following me?” 

“I’m not following you,” I blurt out, my cheeks red. 

“That’s... umm,” he looks me up and down, nibbling on the tip of my sunglasses, “Hard to believe.” 

The nerve! 

“Give me my damn sunglasses, Bobby,” I say, furrowing my brows as I go for them again. 

He moves them out of my reach and we’re in the same dance of us being way too close for comfort. I bite my lip in frustration, clenching my fists at my side. 

“If you want an excuse to get close to me, all you have to do is ask,” Bobby grins at me, lighting a mixture of excitement and aggravation in my chest. 

“You are such a child,” I respond, rolling my eyes as I cross my arms over my chest. I take about two steps back and turn away from him, looking at him over my shoulder, “And plus you’re breaking the rules. That sounds a lot like flirting and so I’m out, keep the sunglasses.” 

He laughs out loud as I start to walk away. This time he doesn’t reach out to grab my arm, he doesn’t say anything to try to keep me there and I pause, looking at him over my shoulder again.

He’s looking at me smugly, his brows arched as he watches me walk away. He meets my eyes when I turn back and shrugs. He puts the sunglasses on and turns back down the aisle. 

_I know he didn’t—_

I stop myself, closing my eyes and clenching my fists again. I convince myself that I’m only doing this because I want my sunglasses back. 

I turn on my heel and follow him down the aisle, stopping in confusion when I don’t see him. 

Where did he go?

I frown, walking to the end of the aisle and slowly peeking around the corner. 

I still didn’t see him but as I turned around, I ran smack into his chest. 

And I won’t even begin to admit that I literally scream in the middle of the CVS. 

He laughs out loud, wrapping his arms around me in a hug as all eyes in the store turn to look at us in confusion. We must look like some couple who’s playing tag in the middle of the store.

I blush uncontrollably and even allow myself to hide my face in his chest until I feel like no one’s paying us attention anymore. 

“You asshole,” I mumble, pushing myself out of his arms. How did I always end up here? 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, stepping back and scratching his head. He takes off my sunglasses and gives me a bashful smile, “I just didn’t think you’d scream like that.”

I sigh and hug my arms around myself, “I scare easily. Not really good with things that aren’t planned.” 

He nods his head like that makes perfect sense and hands me my sunglasses. I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously and he chuckles.

“No jokes, I promise. But you should take them back before I change my mind,” he says with a grin.

I roll my eyes and shake my head, taking them from his hand and hooking them on my shirt, “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” he smirks and comes to wrap his arm around my shoulder, pulling me back down the aisle with him. My feet act like I have no choice but to follow him even though I know I should go.

“What are the chances of us running into each other here?” He says, pausing at the snacks once again. 

“Should be zero to none, but look at us now,” I reply and he laughs. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reaching down and picking up a bag of sour cream and onion chips, “I thought you lived like… on the opposite side of town.” 

“I do,” I mumble, “That doesn’t mean I have to stay there, does it?”

“Hmm, fair,” he replies. He glances at me from the corner of his eyes, “Are these crisps good?” 

I furrow my brows, “Crisps? If you mean chips then yeah, but…” I pick up a bag of cheddar and sour cream and shake them at him, “These are better.” 

“Crisps, Chips,” he shrugs, “All the same thing, Lass.”

I try not to giggle because I can’t believe he actually just called me Lass. I mean I know it was a Scottish thing to do, but I didn’t think I’d ever actually hear a man call me Lass. 

“What’s funny?” He asks, sitting his bag back onto the wall and taking the one from my hand. 

“I dunno,” I reply, “I just never thought I’d hear someone actually call me Lass.” 

He shakes his head and laughs, “That’s because you haven’t ever been around a real Scotsman, eh?” 

“No, not really,” I reply honestly, looking up at him with a smile.

He chuckles, “Well, it’s your lucky day.” 

He steps back and spins in place until he’s facing me again, “Here I am and I’m all yours.” 

I laugh and shake my head before grinning at him, “Do they have a return policy where you’re from?” 

His jaw drops and he grabs his chest with his free hand, mocking a hurt expression, “You wound me, Samantha.” 

I chuckle and shrug. 

“You are one tough cookie,” he shakes his head at me and then grins, “But I’m afraid not. You break it, you buy it.” 

“Break it?” I say, arching my brow as I look him up and down, “You look fine to me.”

He shakes his head and taps his chest, “You broke my heart.” 

“Oh, boy, _please_ ,” I laugh and roll my eyes, turning to go back to the counter. 

He falls in place beside me, “I’m serious! You’re just gonna leave me like this?” 

“I am,” I reply, looking at him with a smirk, “You’ll recover.” 

“You’re ice cold, woman,” he shakes his head, “Ice cold.” 

“Bad bitches have reputations to maintain,” I tell him and he laughs out loud. It makes me smile as I finally make my way to the counter and thankfully, there’s no longer a line. 

I take the chips from his hand. He looks confused as I sit the bag with my water for the cashier before nodding towards the drink refrigerator, “You gonna get a drink?” 

“Oh! Um, yeah,” he runs over and grabs two waters before coming back, sitting them on the counter. 

As I reach for my phone, he pulls out his wallet and pushes me out the way with his hip, “I got it.” 

I frown, “I can get it.” 

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’ll get it. You can get lunch on Monday,” he grins. 

I roll my eyes, “Who said I was getting lunch with you?” 

“I did,” he replies simply as he pays. He turns down the option for a bag and hands me my water, “You must forget. You work for me, shouldn’t you be trying to impress me?” 

I bark out a laugh, “I’ll impress you with increased revenue and sales, more profit. But lunch? I think not.” 

He rolls his eyes, picking up his items before we head to the door, “Now, I think that’s a bad business move. If you’re going to accurately represent and market my bakery, I think I want to know more about you.” 

“What more could you possibly want to know?” I ask him, was he really about to pull this card out on me? I wish I kept a reverse uno card in my back pocket. 

He thinks for a moment, but is cut off as the doors slide open and we walk outside. 

“Took you long enough,” Martine says, leaning against the wall of the building, “I thought you got lost.” 

She pushes off the wall and pauses when she notices me before arching a brow at Bobby. The blonde I saw early has her back to me and turns to see what causes the look on Martine’s face. 

When her eyes land on me, her eyes go wide and she breaks out in a smile. 

“Oh my god,” she says, pushing off from the wall and coming towards me. I furrow my brows as she grins, walking in a semicircle around me and looking me up and down. 

“Um, can I help you?” I ask her, stepping back and turning to face her. 

“I’m sorry, hun,” she glances at Bobby and winks, “It’s just you’re way hotter than he said you were.” 

I blush deeply and look at Bobby in disbelief. He told her about me? First his sister and now this woman too? Did this boy know how to keep a secret? 

He bites his lip, his cheeks are turning pink, “I, um…” he swallows and shifts his weight, “I kinda sorta told her you were cute. This is Lottie by the way.” 

She smirks and pulls me into a hug that I politely return. 

“Nice to meet you,” I tell her with a smile. But I don’t buy what Bobby told me one bit. She probably knows everything. Plus how does she even recognize me? 

“What’s she doing here, Bobby?” Marine says. It’s the first she’s spoken since she saw me and she doesn’t sound happy. And not to mention, how rude not to say hello first. 

He opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off, turning to face her, “Hi Martine. I just happened to be in the neighborhood, just finished a walk up on the High Line.” 

Her eyes shift towards me but Lottie speaks first. 

“Just finished?” She says with a frown, “That’s a shame, we were just going up there.” 

“Yeah,” Bobby adds, glancing at me, “I was going to ask if you wanted to join us.” 

“She said she just finished, Bobby,” Martine says, a fair warning in her voice and I arch my brow at her. But her eyes stay glued on Bobby and he sighs. 

Did she not like me now? 

“Yeah,” I say awkwardly, looking between the two of them as the tension rises, “So… I’m just gonna go ahead and head on out.” 

Lottie shakes her head at them and rolls her eyes before gracing me with a smile, “Maybe you can meet up with us for dinner? It’s Samantha, right?” 

“Yes,” I press my lips together, “But um... I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Maybe some other time.” 


	7. A Little Lie

**That Morning - Bobby’s POV**

“Why don’t you want to marry that girl?” Martine says, laughing out loud, “I think that you would be great together.”

“Har har,” I reply, rolling my eyes, turning off my phone after I exited out of Instagram, “Why don’t you marry ilmarty92? We can both just settle down with a random stranger.”

“Maybe I will,” she grins, hopping off the bed, “But anyway, I’m about to go take a shower. We need to find somewhere to eat.” 

“Okay,” I reply, stretching out over the bed, picking my phone back up, “I’ll find something, then we can go after I take a shower.”

“Cool,” she says, grabbing her suitcase and heading towards the bathroom, “And let Lottie know we’re getting ready to go.”

“Will do,” I say, my eyes follow my sister as she leaves the room. 

And now that my nosey sister is gone, I open Instagram back up.

Who is ‘_s.h.e.’ on Instagram? 

From the curly afro in the profile picture, I had my suspicions. The timing was just too right.

I type in the username and click her profile, immediately rolling my eyes with a chuckle. 

Of course, she’s private. I should have known better.

But now that I can focus on the icon, it’s definitely Samantha. 

My curiosity is peaked, wondering why she was snooping on my page. 

Was I the first thing on her mind this morning despite our conversation yesterday evening? It’d only be fair after the way she left me. 

The image of her walking away replayed in my mind; the way she gave me the sexiest smile over her shoulder before stopping my heart with a wink. 

Immediately after telling me I’m not allowed to flirt with her. Ever. Or else she’ll walk away.

But all she does is leave me ready to chase after her. Which is uncharacteristic of me. 

That’s not usually how I approach women, but she does something to me. 

I sigh, deciding to return the favor and snoop her Instagram. Or what I could see of it at least. 

Her icon is a close-up of her face, her curly hair overpowering and nearly filling the whole frame. She has her glasses on and she’s sipping on a cup of coffee from some fancy artisan type mug. She’s adorable, pretty brown eyes staring up at the camera and I can nearly smell the coffee from her cup. 

But since her account is private all I can see is her bio and the fact that she’s the definition of low-key; only 30 posts, 1,140 followers, and following 953. 

_Samantha Robins._

_Columbia Alum’12_

_Culture over Clout_

_Keepin’ Myself Exclusive_

Wow. Her attitude is evident and I love it. 

But then I grimace, knowing there’s a stark contrast between her profile and mine. 

What did she think about me after watching that? My cheeks get hot, knowing she had to see some of the comments earlier. If you would have told me about three years ago that I’d have random women calling me ‘daddy’ and offering to have my kids, I would have told you were crazy. 

I’ve never been that guy. When I was younger, I was more like a perfect mixture of awkward and a class clown; sprinkle in being a bit too trusting and a whole lot of stupid. And ta-da, the perfect Bobby Cake. Except for that one phase...

But anyway, here we are now. 

I’m not exactly that kid anymore. Apparently, I was more of a fan-favorite on Love Island then I realized. A bit funnier than I thought I was, a bit better looking than I thought I was, and if the fact that I was in New York to open another bakery was any evidence, I’m a bit more capable than I thought I was. 

I just wasn’t enough for the person who mattered to me the most. 

I can’t help but sigh. 

Don’t get me wrong, I adorn my fans. I appreciate the fame; I can provide for my family in ways I’ve never imagined. I can help my friends. Nearly everyone took my side after the worst night of my life and felt the need to support my dreams.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less. 

I drag my hands over my face, wrapping my hand over my mouth as my mind works. 

Pushing the memory away, now what’s worse is that now Samantha probably thinks I’m a pig and that I actually like the kind of attention that comes with this level of fame. 

All of my fans aren’t perverted. It’s just, sometimes, certain comments make me want to hide. 

To top it off, Samantha already thought that I was lying about not being the kind of guy that hooks up with women on a regular basis. I could see it on her face that morning. 

I’ll just have to provide her wrong eventually. 

Not that I should actually care about that. Since that night never happened _anyway_.

I groan and let my head fall onto the bed, turning to stare at my phone screen as I chew on my lip.

My curiosity is trying to get the best of me, but I know I can’t follow Samantha. She’d deny me even if I tried. But then genius strikes and I grin, going to my contacts.

My old roommate picks up on the third ring. 

“Well, well, well,” Kyle’s voice answers, “If it isn’t Mr. Big Shot himself, what’s up, man?”

“Hey, mate,” I chuckle, sitting up, “Just the usual, making all the ladies fall in love, gettin’ money.”

He snorts, “Yeah, right. The sad thing is that it’s true.”

I laugh, “What are you up these days?”

He sighs, “I’m in L.A. now, got a teaching gig at one of the culinary schools.”

“Oh, yeah?” I say, “You know, Lottie, who I was on Love Island with lives out there now. She actually flew out this weekend to hang out with me and Martine in New York.”

“Yeah? The goth chick?” he asks, “Can you put me on? 

I roll my eyes, “She’d eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, mate.”

“That’s what I’m looking for,” he replies and I laugh. 

“Yeah, whatever,” I chuckle, shaking my head, “But hey, can you do a favor for me?”

“What is it?” he asks. 

“Can you follow this girl on Instagram for me?” I ask, feeling like a total creep now that the words left my mouth.

“What?” Kyle says in surprise, “Why can’t you just follow her?”

“Her account is private and I, um,” I frown, trying to come up with a good excuse, “I need to do what I can to keep our relationship… uncover.”

“Hm,” he pauses for a moment but he continues, “I guess. What’s her name?”

“Samantha Robins,” I reply, “Robins with an ‘I’.” 

“There’s a lot of Samantha Robins,” Kyle replies, I can imagine him scrolling through the various profiles, “What’s her username?”

“Underscore, S, dot, H, dot, E, dot,” I tell him, waiting patiently. 

“Interesting,” he mumbles, “Alright, cute little blonde? Holding coffee in her pic?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” I reply, looking down at my phone with a smile. She is really cute. 

“She graduated from Columbia?” Kyle continues with a chuckle, “She’s way too smart for you, mate.”

_Like I didn’t already know that._ I roll my eyes, “Just follow her or I’ll call somebody else to do it.”

“No, no,” he replies, “I got it, I got it. There, the request is sent. How do you know Ms. Keepin’ Myself Exclusive is going to accept me anyway?”

“Because she doesn’t know you,” I reply, biting my lip, “And that’s just an act. She’s actually not that bad.”

“We’ll see,” Kyle mumbles, “How do you know her anyway?”

“I… Um,” I rub the back of my neck, “Let’s just say I meet her at work.” 

“Oh, okay,” There’s a moment a silence, “Oh, wow. She actually accepted. Pretty quick too.”

I go speak but Kyle cuts me off, “Damn, Bobby.” 

“What?” I frown, “What is it?”

“I’m trying to do the kind of work you do,” Kyle continues, “She’s hot. I’m sorry, but you have got to let me DM this one.”

I roll my eyes, “Just send me some screenshots of her profile.”

“What?” Kyle replies, “That’s weird.”

“How else am I supposed to see it?!” I reply with a sigh. 

“I guess that’s true,” he mumbles. There’s silence on the phone as he does what I ask. My phone lights up with three notifications. 

“Sent them,” he responds, “Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.” 

“Thanks, mate,” I grin, “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, “I’m still going to DM her. No offense, consider it ex-roomie tax.” 

I sigh, “What happened to bro code?”

“Bro code doesn’t apply with a woman like this,” he snickers, “Now I’ll let you continue with your stalker activities while I actually go pursue this lovely young woman. Talk later.” 

He doesn’t even give me the chance to respond before he hangs up, leaving me shaking my head and wishing I called somebody else. But unfortunately, Kyle was the least-suspecting since everyone else I could call was from the U.K. or somewhere outside of the states. 

I bite my lip, feeling very much like a stalker as I open the screenshots he sent me. At least now I can see her full profile. 

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was pleasantly surprised by the first screenshot, finding several cute images of her, a couple of pictures taken of different passages in books and some artwork I remember seeing in her home. 

I wish I could click on this one photo of her and Melissa together near the bottom. Her hair was shorter and she’s laughing, her arm around Melissa’s shoulder while Melissa wrapped her arm around her waist. They were both wearing Columbia University sweatshirts, Samantha’s was white while Melissa’s was blue. 

I smile, they must be college friends who got to work for the same company. 

I swipe over to the next screenshot and have to catch my breath. Two images catch my attention and I can’t help but zoom in.

The first one, she must have been on vacation. She’s relaxing in a lounge with her hair in a bun of blonde and brown braids. She’s obviously by some fancy pool, wearing a little multi-colored bikini and sunglasses. Each color emphasizes the golden shade of her skin and I wipe my mouth, thinking that I’m going to start drooling at any moment now. 

But then the second one is closer to the bottom. She’s dressed in the fluffiest pink sweater I’ve ever seen, her hair pulled back into a perfect puff, a beautiful smile on her face as she looks down at a white bundle in her arms. 

She's holding a baby with dark little curls and ringlets on top of their head. 

I bite my lip, really wishing I could read the caption, wanting to know exactly who the baby belongs to. Is the baby hers and I just happened to come on the weekend when the father has custody or something? Or is Samantha an aunt? Or is it someone else’s baby entirely? 

I asked her about a boyfriend, but the thought of her having, well... a baby-daddy didn’t even occur to me. 

I frown, the uncertainty silently killing me. Would I actually care if she did have a baby with another man? I mean it was only that one picture so it was doubtful that it was her baby. 

I rub my eyes, pondering quietly before deciding it didn’t matter anyway. 

I zoom out of the photo before swiping to the last screenshot. 

I can’t help but grin, immediately zooming in on an image that must be her with her family. They’re all similar shades of lighter toned brown skin except for the woman who looks like her mother. She’s a couple shades darker than her husband and children. 

I can tell that Samantha has the same beautiful smile and bright brown eyes as her mother does. 

Her father is a tall man, standing in the back with a grin on his face, his arm wrapped around her mother’s shoulder. Crinkling brown eyes and a pair of shades on top of his head, he’s wearing a simple grey t-shirt and jeans, holding a glass of what looks like lemonade in his hands. 

It looks like Samantha has an older sister. Her sister’s dark hair is straight and pulled back into a ponytail, her arms are wrapped around Samantha’s waist as she tries to kiss her on the cheek. Her lips are upturned as she tries not to burst out laughing as Samantha giggles, trying to pull away from her. 

Then there’s two younger boys, they both look like they just turned thirteen. One has a matching grin like their father except with braces and the other looks too cool to be standing in the family photo with them, making me chuckle. 

Now, I don’t know exactly when this photo was taken, but Samantha looks a lot younger with baby cheeks and a ‘I heart NYC’ t-shirt. Her hair hasn’t been dyed blonde yet. 

She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

If I was a stalker so be it, seeing Samantha so young and happy with her family was worth asking Kyle for these screenshots. 

The problem was now I wanted to meet them, I wanted to know all about them, I wanted to know more about Samantha and figure out who that baby was. And why did she pick those particular art pieces in her condo? What about those books made her want to share? 

What was college like for her? How did she and Melissa met? I want to know where she likes to vacation because I’d like to take her there. 

“What are you smiling at?” Martine laughs as she startles me and I immediately click my phone off.

“Uh, nothing,” I reply too quickly, giving her a smirk as I hide my phone in my lap.

“Yeah, right,” She rolls her eyes, using the towel to dry her hair, “Did you find us somewhere to eat?”

“Oh, uh...” I give her a toothy grin and shrug.

She rolls her eyes, “I take that as a no. What were you doing then?” 

“Nothing,” I reply, pulling my phone back out, making sure to close the screenshots, “I just got side-tracked.”

“With?” She comes to sit beside me on the bed, arching her brow. I click my phone back off and give her an innocent smile.

My sister’s lips fall into a flat line and she sighs, “What are you hiding?”

“Whaaaat?” I respond dramatically with a deep frown, “What could I possibly have to hide?” 

“Oh, I dunno,” Martine narrows her eyes at me, “Chatting with _Samantha_ early this morning?”

I burst out laughing, standing up to get my own suitcase, “Chatting… With Samantha? You mean _Ms. Robins_? I’m not even allowed to remember Thursday night. I can’t talk to her if it isn’t about work.”

Martine blinks in surprise, “Wait. She said that?”  
  


“Yes, she said that,” I roll my eyes, throwing my suitcase onto my bed, “That’s the only reason why we met up yesterday. Basically, we broke up.”

My sister snorts, “Broke up? I wasn’t aware you were even together.”

I chuckle, shaking my head as I rumble through my suitcase looking for something to wear, “Thank you for the encouraging words, Martine. They really help soothe my aching heart.”

She laughs, “At least she had the decency to break up with you in person.” 

“True,” I mumble, pulling out a t-shirt, “I’m shocked you didn’t hear me crying myself to sleep last night.” 

Martine tries to hold her laughter in, “Actually, all I heard was your snoring.”

I look up at her in shock, “I don’t _snore_.” 

She just shrugs, “Okay.”

My shoulders drop and I roll my eyes, “But really. Samantha and I are completely professional now. The boundaries are put up, you don’t have to worry.”

“Yeah,” Martine replies cautiously, “But it sounds kind of one-sided.” 

“One-sided?” My eyes narrow at her in confusion. 

“Because _she_ said that,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest, “I know you, Bobs. Obviously you like her or you wouldn’t have—”

I cough loudly, “Not allowed to think about that.” 

Martine frowns, narrowing her eyes at me, “Stop that. We’re having a serious conversation.” 

“That I would rather not have,” I respond, picking up a pair of shorts, “I get it. But we don’t have to chat about this. I’m not going to try anything on with Samantha. Or well, anything else at least.” 

“Bobby,” Martine says with a sigh, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

I pause, looking down at the clothes in my hands before shaking my head, “This isn’t anything like that. I had a one night stand with her. Turns out she’s our business consultant. It was an accident, nothing’s going to happen between us.” 

My sister chews on her bottom lip as she looks at me, “If you say so…,” she sighs, “Samantha is a great consultant, but I won’t have her messing around with my brother.”

I laugh, “You don’t have to worry about that. We won’t be messing around anytime soon.”

She rolls her eyes, “Anytime _soon_?”

“Anytime ever,” I correct myself, giving my sister a toothy grin.

She narrows her eyes at me, “Please don’t mess this up, Bobby.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” I respond with a chuckle, shutting my suitcase close, “I’m serious. We’re completely professional. I wasn’t even thinking about her until you brought her up.” 

Martine arches her brow at me and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. 

Honestly, who would? After all, I was lying. 


	8. Cheeseball

**Samantha’s POV**

  
Why? Why? _Why_?

Why did I agree to this?

Because for some damn reason I can’t stand to tell Bobby no when he turns those honey colored eyes on me. I was able to turn down dinner on Saturday, but in exchange Bobby basically forced me to agree to lunch. But due to some scheduling issues, lunch turned into dinner and now here we are.

Not that Martine seemed very happy about it, but she’s been polite enough today.

I sigh, smoothing down my dress as I step out of our uber onto the bustling streets. The three amigos climbing out behind me. Melissa is such a _traitor_. 

“Bobby tried to come up with all of these different puns and honestly, it was getting ridiculous,” Martine is telling her, “So when he just kept coming up with all of these different names, I was like come on, Bobby. We can come up with a better idea than that.”

“And that’s when our mom was like, don’t you mean a _batter_ idea?” Bobby adds, chuckling as he waves at the driver and shuts the door behind him.

“And boom,” Martine laughs and shakes her head, “That’s how we came up with A Batter Idea, Bakery and Cakery.” 

“That is so cute,” Melissa giggles as we begin walking towards the restaurant, “I love it.”

“Well,” I add, fighting off a smile, “We see where Bobby gets his humor from.” 

They all chuckle, even Martine. 

Bobby grins and strides up to walk beside me, putting his hands in his pockets, “Come off it. You like my humor.” 

I chuckle, “Well, now I know it’s actually your mom’s.” 

“She’s not wrong,” Martine adds with a laugh, “Two peas in a pod.”

Bobby rolls his eyes before giving me a smile, “What can I say? I learned from the best.” 

“Your mom sounds adorable,” Melissa says, “What does she do?” 

“She’s a chef,” Bobby replies with a grin, “How do you think I picked up my craft? It’s genetic.”

Melissa and I chuckle while Martine rolls her eyes, “And what about me?”

“Meh,” Bobby shrugs, leaning over to whisper in my ear, “She’s obviously the rough draft, gets a little jealous sometimes. Don’t mind her.” 

I snort with laughter and Melissa leans towards Bobby, “What was that, Bobs?”

“Oh, nothing, sis,” He replies, shooting a grin over his shoulder, “Just telling Samantha how wonderful you are.”

She narrows her eyes at him, “I bet.”

He chuckles, turning back to meet my eyes before he winks at me, making my heart flutter.

And I hate it so much. I bite my lip, glancing away from him as I feel my cheeks flush under the summertime heat. I hope that he can’t tell thanks to my foundation. 

“So where are we headed?” Bobby asks.

“The Edge, it’s just a spot that we thought you’d enjoy,” I reply simply. 

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” Melissa adds, gesturing towards the building, “The owners are British and Jamaican and the food is great, Samantha thought that you would really appreciate it.”

I sigh, Melissa really doesn’t know when to stop talking sometimes. She wasn’t supposed to mention that and _of course_ , she throws all the credit on me. 

I bite my lip as Bobby looks at me with a smirk, “Yeah? What made you think about that?”

Martine looks a bit confused and let me tell you why. They haven’t actually told me their father is Jamaican. I found that out for myself by _maybe_ watching a couple of Bobby’s interviews Sunday afternoon. 

I was just curious, okay? But there’s nothing wrong with learning about your clients. It helps you figure out where to take them for dinner and learn more about their brand. That’s _literally_ the only reason why I watched them. 

But now I’m wondering why Bobby wasn’t surprised. Maybe it was a given assumption for him, knowing that his whole life story is out on the web. But it does give me pause. He didn’t see me lurking that morning, did he? 

“I was trying to make a good business move,” I reply to Bobby with a cheeky smile before rolling my eyes at him. I go to open the door to the restaurant, but he beats me to it.

“Yeah? I guess you’re taking my advice?” He says with a grin as he holds the door open for me. 

“Learning from the best,” I say, poking him in the chest, making him chuckle as I walk inside. He holds the door for Melissa and Martine, letting them walk in behind me. 

“Hi. Table for four, please,” I tell the hostess with a smile. 

She returns my smile, grabbing the menus, “Of course, right this way.” 

We take our seats at the table, chatting mindlessly as the waiter comes to take our drink orders. He soon returns, placing our drinks beside us before giving us time to decide on a meal.

“So, Samantha,” Bobby starts, turning his eyes on me as waiter walks away, “How did you know we were Jamacian?”

I take a sip of my water, narrowing my eyes at Bobby as he smiles at me, “I do research on all of my clients.”

He tilts his head from side to side, “Hmp. That makes sense.”

“Wait,” Martine frowns suddenly, turning her attention to me, “Did you… Did you know who Bobby was before?”

  
My eyes go wide and my cheeks are now on fire, “What? No no no… I did not. I didn’t get your full information until the morning of our meeting.” 

Martine narrows her eyes at me, “Well, that’s a relief.”

Bobby rolls his eyes at her before offering me a grin, “Lay off, sis. It’s not like it actually matters either way, how could Samantha resist my charm? I’m obviously mysterious and aloof so she had to find out all about me.”

Melissa giggles when he winks at me. My blush deepens, but I offer him a smile. Normally, I’d offer him a snarky comment or an impolite reminder, but right now I’m just thankful he’s trying to keep the mood light. 

Martine rolls her eyes but chuckles, “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re anything but mysterious and aloof. It’s honestly unfortunate.” 

Bobby scoffs at her, “What? And you’d think my sister would know me best.”

“Excuse him,” Martine turns to us with a smile, ignoring him, “You take him out of the office or the kitchen and he forgets how to act.”

Melissa laughs, “No need to apologize, he’s entertaining.”

“I’m still here, you know,” Bobby chuckles, taking a sip of the beer he ordered. 

He smiles at me, “This is great. You said that their dad brews this?”

I nod and smile at him, “I’m glad you like it.”

He grins, “I have to try the food before I give you my final review.” 

“I’m looking forward to it,” I reply, “Speaking of which, why don’t you try this?”

I flip the menu around on the table, pointing to the different options as I talk. Bobby listens intently as I tell him what my recommendations are, Martine peeking over his shoulder. 

Soon the waiter is back and Bobby insists that Melissa and I order first.

Bobby’s eyes are still drifting over the menu as the waiter moves on to him before he smiles and nods towards me, “I guess I’ll just have what she’s having.”

I roll my eyes playfully at Bobby, making him grin as the waiter jots it down. He moves onto Martine’s order before leaving with the menus. 

“Copycat,” I chuckle, taking a sip of water.

“Call me what you want,” Bobby shrugs and offers me a grin, “I just thought I’d follow your lead since you’re a woman of good taste.” 

I arch my brow at him, fighting off a smile, “Is that right?” 

“I have a joke here, _Ms. Robins_ ,” Bobby admits with a chuckle, “But I’m afraid I’ll get in trouble if I say it.” 

“In the short time that I’ve known you,” I chuckle, “I can confidently say that it probably would.”

He laughs and the sound makes my heart so happy I nearly choke, making me feel like the Grinch on Christmas day. 

“Well, while I have the two of you here,” Bobby says, his eyes drifting between Melissa and I, “How long have you two been partners?”

“Oh my,” Melissa bites her lip, “We’ve been working at the firm for about three years now,” she grins at me, “But we’ve actually known each other for how long? Since freshman year in college.” 

“That’s about 9 years now,” I shake my head, “I can’t believe it was so long ago.” 

“Wow,” Martine smiles, “That explains how well you work together.” 

“How did you meet?” Bobby asks curiously. 

“You want to—” Melissa and I both start at the same and laugh. She points at me and shrugs with a grin. 

“Okay,” I say with a laugh, “I’ll tell it then. It’s not all that entertaining. We were at a party and Melissa was there with a group of her friends.”

“Yeah,” Melissa sighs, cutting me off, “Basically, they ended up ditching me.” 

I nod, “A bunch of — _excuse my french_ — assholes.”

Bobby and Martine chuckle. 

I open my mouth to continue telling the story until I hear my name come from behind me.

“Samantha?” 

I frown, turning in around in my seat to see who called me. 

It’s like saying ‘assholes’ summoned the biggest one I know.

I force my lips into a sweet smile as he walks up to our table.

“Why, hello there, Leon,” my voice is sickeningly sweet as I say his name.

Melissa doesn’t attempt to hide her distaste, leaning onto the table as she basically growls a greeting, “Leon.” 

He grins at Melissa, ignoring her attitude, “Hey there, Melissa.” 

He turns his green eyes back to me, nodding towards me as my name falls from his lips like a smooth red wine, “It’s good to see you, Samantha.” 

I resist the urge to clench my fist under the table as he leans over and attempts to wrap his arm around my shoulder. I lean away from him, narrowing my eyes and he gets the message, his tongue poking his cheek before he sucks his teeth. 

“I see you’re still a little mad at me,” he chuckles awkwardly, not bothering to even glance over at Bobby and Martine, who are looking on in confusion. 

“Yes, well,” I reply, narrowing my eyes, “You’re interrupting. I’m afraid we’ll have to talk some other time.”

Leon frowns, looking up at me before allowing a slow smile to cross his face and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to punch him in the face. 

“I apologize, Samantha,” he says, glancing towards Bobby and Martine before turning his attention back to me, “I just thought why I had you here, I’d ask if you were seeing anyone. Maybe I could make up for lost time, take you out, buy you a drink.”

I look at him in deadpan, Melissa looking at him in disbelief over my shoulder. 

_The audacity of this man_. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me three times? Fuck the peace sign. 

I can feel my anger bubbling up as I go to speak, but Bobby cuts me off, leaning forward to clasp Leon on the shoulder with a grin. Leon jumps, taken by surprise as he turns his attention to Bobby. 

“Actually, she is seeing someone, mate,” Bobby smirks, “I’m afraid she won’t be able to make it.” 

Leon blinks in surprise before shaking his head, narrowing his eyes at Bobby, “I’m sorry? Who is she seeing? _You_?”

Bobby shrugs, “I don’t see how it’s any of your concern.”

“Samantha,” Leon turns to me, pointing at Bobby with his thumb, “Who is this?”

“Do you not understand?” Melissa snaps before I can reply.

Why does everyone feel the need to cut me off tonight? Can’t I just handle my own business? 

“He’s her man and he’s politely trying to tell you to fuck off,” Melissa adds, narrowing her eyes at Leon. 

_Oh, God. Please help me_. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I glance towards Martine when I open them, feeling as if we’re the only sane individuals at this table.

She smiles helplessly and actually looks at me apologetically.

“I don’t believe you,” Leon rolls his eyes, “If it’s true, Samantha can speak for herself.”

“What does it even matter?” I say in frustration, pushing my curls from my face, “We didn’t even date.”

Leon frowns, “That’s not true. We went on two dates, hung out at your spot. I even invited you to mine.” 

“ _I_ went on two dates,” I correct him, “Me, myself, and I. _You_ were not there.”

“Things came up,” he argues.

“Okay,” Bobby sighs, “I think that this is enough. She’s not interested, mate.” 

Leon rolls his eyes before he arches his brow at Bobby, “Are you really even dating her or not?”

Bobby’s eyes drift to me and I know he’ll play the role if I want him to. 

But I can’t have Leon spreading rumors about me, knowing someone can easily find out who Bobby is so I shake my head. 

Bobby turns his attention back to Leon before he grins, “Okay, you caught me. No…” 

Leon huffs triumphantly before turning his attention back to me, but as he does Bobby grabs his arm, “Wait.” 

Leon turns back to him with a frown, “What?” 

“But what if I’m interested?” Bobby arches a brow and I frown, taken by surprise.

I’m not the only one. 

Leon blinks and tilts his head. It’s like he’s looking at Bobby for the first time as his eyes drift over him before he flickers his gaze back to meet Bobby’s eyes, “You’re joking.” 

Bobby shakes his head, “No. Why not take me out?” He grins, “I’d like to get a drink with you.” 

Melissa and I exchange a glance. Martine just sips her beer quietly while Leon stands there for a moment, considering Bobby’s offer. 

“Oh, what the hell,” Leon shrugs, reaching back to pull his wallet from his pocket. He grins at Bobby as he pulls out a business card, sliding it across the table, “My cell is on there. Give me a call.” 

Bobby picks it before shooting him a smirk, “Just promise to show up for me if we go on a date?” 

Leon laughs before glancing at me, “That’s not a regular thing for me, I promise,” his eyes shift back towards Bobby as he smiles, “For you, I’ll be there.” 

“Looking forward to it then,” Bobby grins at him.

Leon turns his attention back to me and shrugs, “Shame you’ll be missing out, Samantha. Maybe another time.” 

And with that, Leon turns and walks towards the bar, joining the people he was probably originally here to meet anyway. 

“What the hell just happened?” Melissa says, looking between Bobby and I. 

I shrug. 

Honestly? I’m just glad Leon is gone. However, now there’s something I need to know. 

“Bobby,” I say looking at him curiously, “Are you… actually going to call him?” 

Bobby grins at me, waving the business card between his fingers, “Why? Are you jealous?” 

I blush, narrowing my eyes at him, “No. I was just curious.” 

He chuckles before giving me the sweetest smile, “No, I’m not actually going to call him.”

And that soothed me in a way that it shouldn’t. But now I know I’d be internally fuming if he _was_ interested in someone else. I need to gain more control over myself. 

“Are you really interested in men?” Melissa asks him.

Bobby shrugs, “I’d date a guy if I was interested, I guess. But him?” He laughs, shooting her a grin, “You think I’d go on a date with a guy who stood _Samantha_ up? _Twice_? He’s obviously insane.” 

“Well,” Melissa laughs, “I don’t know. You probably have to be a bit more insane to actually date her.” 

I roll my eyes at her as she grins at me. 

“Then call me crazy because under different circumstances, I’d love to,” Bobby laughs, giving me a smile and I blush, taken by surprise by his honesty. 

I open my mouth, but no one words leave. Why do I always end up speechless around him? 

His cheesy little lines and humorous hazel eyes always leave me in a daze.

Martine sighs, shaking her head sadly before taking a sip of her beer while Melissa pokes her bottom lip out, her hands coming to rest over her heart as she looks between us dreamily. 

“Okay,” I say, grateful to see our waiter coming towards us. I needed the distraction.

“Looks like our food is on its way out. Are y’all hungry? I’m starving.” 


End file.
